FROM -THE- LIBRARY- OF' 
A.   W.    Ryder 


YOUNG  FOLKS'  CENTENNIAL  RHYMES. 


YOUNG   FOLKS' 


CENTENNIAL   RHYMES 


BY  WILL   CARLETON, 

AUTHOR  OF   "FARM   BALLADS"   AND   "FARM   LEGENDS.' 


ILLUSTRA  TED. 


NEW    YORK: 
HARPER    &    BROTHERS,    PUBLISHERS, 

FRANKLIN     SQUARE. 
1876. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1876,  by 

HARPER    &    BROTHERS, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


,-.  V  :«•;**:«*•?•««    '  i- 

V  *£**&**>•  TKfj  /VT>?  ^^  -^  -\   ^i 


^v 


DEDICATED 


TO 


YOUNG  AMERICA." 


M29375 


TO    PARENTS. 


IT  is  very  desirable  to  induce  children  to  love  history  for  its  own 
sake,  and  to  read  it  not  only  as  a  task,  but  a  pleasure.  This  they  can 
not  do  when  met  at  the  outset  merely  with  dry  historical  facts,  dull  sta 
tistics,  and  far-away  dates,  concerning  which  they  feel  not  the  slightest 
interest,  and  the  meaning  or  object  of  which  they  do  not  understand. 
They  must  be  shown  that  the  people  who  lived  in  the  "  days  agone " 
were  not  so  very  different  from  the  ones  who  live  now ;  that  there  were 
boys  and  girls  in  those  days,  as  well  as  at  present ;  their  imaginations 
and  sympathies  must  be  excited  in  regard  to  the  events  of  history ;  and 
then  they  will  read  it  not  alone  for  the  sake  of  being  good  students,  or 
of  pleasing  their  teachers,  but  for  its  own  sake. 

This  principle  has  been  borne  in  mind  during  the  preparation  of  the 
present  volume.  Time  and  opportunity  have  not  enabled  the  author  to 
carry  it  out  so  completely,  in  this  case,  as  he  would  like  to  have  done ; 
but  he  has  made,  perhaps,  a  step  in  the  right  direction,  and  hopes  that 
these  "  Rhymes,"  and  the  accompanying  notes  and  illustrations,  may  in 
duce  many  of  the  young  people  of  America  to  go  at  work  studying  up 
the  history  of  our  country  with  genuine  zeal,  for  the  sake  of  the  interest 
ing  things  to  be  found  there.  , 

He  also  believes  that  his  publishers  have  presented  the  work  in  a 
form  that  will  make  it  a  very  acceptable  little  gift  from  parents  to 
children,  and  a  pleasant  souvenir  by  which  to  remember  the  Great  Cen 
tennial  Year. 


To  My  Young  Friends •,  Greeting: 

I  have  been  proiid  and  happy  to  know  that  among  the  appreciative  read 
ers  of  my  former  "works  there  have  been  many  of  the  "young  folks"  I 
have  now  written  a  book  on  purpose  for  yon. 

The  centennial  year  of  American  Independence  has  been  the  cause  of  many 
books  being  written  and  published ;  but  among  these  you,  as  a  class,  have 
been  almost,  if  not  entirely,  neglected.  This  ought  not  to  be  ;  for  while  your 
fathers  and  mothers  are  the  grandchildren  of  the  Revolution,  you  are  the 
great-grandchildren;  and  while  brave  men  and  women  lived  during  the 
War  for  Independence,  there  were  also  many  brave  boys  and  girls.  And 
if  our  country  should  have  to  fight  over  again  its  battles  for  liberty,  there 
would  to-day  be  found  many  young  people  vvho  would  do  their  part  nobly. 

So  I  have  written  a  centennial  book  on  purpose  for  you.  It  contains  stories 
and  pictures  of  some  of  the  brave  "  young  folks"  of  Revolutionary  times. 
These  I  have  tried  to  tell  in  plain  words,  but  without  descending  to  "baby- 
talk"  which  is  not  a  very  good  thing  in  a  book,  and  wJiich  young  people  can 
get  over  very  early,  so  as  to  speak  like  other  folks,  if  they  try. 

Toward  the  close  of  the  volume  you  will  find  some  short  ''''notes"  explain 
ing  or  giving  more  information  about  the  persons  and  scenes  spoken  of  in  the 
"Rhymes."  These  you  should  read  carefully,  referring  from  the  poems  to  the 
notes  by  means  of  the  small  figures,  and  trying  to  understand  them  as  well  as 
possible.  If  there  is  any  thing  there  you  can  not  make  out  alone,  ask  your 
parents  or  teacher  to  help  you. 

You  can  also  find  some  of  these  stories  in  one  or  more  of  the  following 
works :  Irving 's  ''''Life  of  Washington"  Lossing's  "field-book  of  the  Amer 
ican  Revolution,"  Hildreth's  "History  of  the  United  States,"  "Noble  Deeds 
of  American  Women"  and  ''''Romance  of  the  Revolution"  These  books,  and 
others  on  the  subject  of  American  history,  you  should  read  as  soon  as  you  can, 
for  every  one  ought  first  of  all  to  learn  the  story  of  his  own  country. 

Hoping  these  few  poems  and  pictures  may  have  the  effect  of  making  even 
better  young  Americans  of  you  all,  I  remain, 

Your  friend, 

WILL    CARLE  TON. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

THE  LITTLE  BLACK-EYED  REBEL 19 

THE  BOSTON  BOYS 24 

THE  FAITHFUL  SISTER 30 

THE  RIDE  OF  JENNIE  M'NEAL 35 

THREE  SCENES  OF  A  HERO'S  LIFE 45 

THE  PARENTS'  FAREWELL 62 

How  ISRAEL  WAS  WHIPPED 69 

LITTLE  GOLDEN-HAIR 77 

THE  PRIZE  OF  THE  "MARGARETTA" 81 

THE  PRINTER-BOY  TRAMP 86 

NELLIE'S  LIE 89 

DICEY  LANGSTON 94 


NOTES  . . . 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE 

THE    PRIZE    OF    THE    "  MARGARETTA " Frontispiece 

"  WAS    WATCHING     FOR     HIS     COMING     FROM     THE     CORNER     OF     HER 

EYE" 20 

"CLINGING  ROUND  HIS  BRAWNY  NECK,  SHE  CLASPED  HER  FINGERS 

WHITE  AND  SMALL" 23 

"THE  GENERAL  GAZED  AT  THE  FLUSHED  FACE  RAISED  TO  HIS, 

WITH  A  PLEASED  SURPRISE" 28 

"'YOU  NEVER  SHALL  KILL  THIS  BROTHER  TILL  I  HAVE  NO  HAND 

TO  SAVE'." 32 

"SO  INTO  THE  NIGHT  THE  GRAY  HORSE  STRODE"  39 

"'SINCE  YOU  HAVE  LEFT  IT  UNTO  ME,  THUS  TO  DECIDE  I'M  LED'"  48 
"  '  WEEP  NOT,  MY  MORE  THAN  MOTHER  ;  WASTE  NOT  A  SINGLE 

TEAR'  " 56 

"JUST  BEFORE  HIS  STEED'S  HIGH  HEAD,  CLAD  IN  ROBES  OF  PUREST 

WHITE" 59 

THE  PARENTS'  FAREWELL 63 

"SHE  BOUND  HIS  ARM" 91 

2 


YOUNG  FOLKS'  CENTENNIAL  RHYMES. 


THE   LITTLE   BLACK-EYED   REBEL.1 

A  BOY  drove  into  the  city,  his  wagon  loaded  down 
With  food  to  feed  the  people  of  the  British-governed  town  ; 
And  the  little  black-eyed  rebel,  so  innocent  and  sly, 
Was  watching  for  his  coming  from  the  corner  of  her  eye. 

His  face  looked  broad  and  honest,  his  hands  were  brown  and 

tough, 
The  clothes  he  wore  upon  him  were  homespun,  coarse,  and 

rough ; 
But  one  there  was  who  watched  him,  who  long  time  lingered 

nigh, 
And  cast  at  him  sweet  glances  from  the  corner  of  her  eye. 


V«K>;/f  >r    JfYtotng,  folks';  Centennial  Rhymes. 

He  drove  up  to  the  market,  he  waited  in  the  line ; 
His  apples  and  potatoes  were  fresh  and  fair  and  fine ; 
But  long  and  long  he  waited,  and  no  one  came  to  buy, 
Save  the  black-eyed  rebel,  watching  from  the  corner  of  her 
eye. 


WAS   WATCHING    FOR    HIS   COMING    FROM    THE  CORNER   OF   HER   EYE.' 


"  Now  who  will  buy  my  apples  ?"  he  shouted,  long  and  loud  ; 
And  "  Who  wants  my  potatoes  ?"  he  repeated  to  the  crowd ; 
But  from  all  the  people  round  him  came  no  word  of  a 

reply, 
Save  the  black-eyed  rebel,  answering  from  the  corner  of  her 

eye. 


The  Little  Black-eyed  Rebel.  21 

For  she  knew  that  'neath  the  lining  of  the  coat  he  wore  that 

day, 
Were   long   letters   from  the   husbands   and   the   fathers   far 

away, 
Who  were  fighting  for  the  freedom  that  they  meant  to  gain 

or  die ; 
And  a  tear  like  silver  glistened  in  the  corner  of  her  eye. 

But  the  treasures  —  how  to  get   them  ?    crept   the   question 

through  her  mind, 
Since  keen  enemies  were  watching  for  what  prizes  they  might 

find: 
And  she  paused  a  while  and  pondered,  with  a  pretty  little 

sigh; 
Then  resolve  crept  through  her  features,  and  a  shrewdness 

fired  her  eye. 

So  she  resolutely  walked  up  to  the  wagon  old  and  red  j 
"  May  I  have  a  dozen  apples  for  a  kiss  ?"  she  sweetly  said  : 
And  the  brown  face  flushed  to  scarlet ;  for  the  boy  was  some 
what  shy, 

And   he   saw  her   laughing   at  him  from   the  corner  of  her 
eye. 


22  Young  Folks'  Centennial  Rhymes. 

"  You  may  have  them  all  for  nothing,  and  more,  if  you  want," 

quoth  he. 
"  I  will  have  them,  my  good  fellow,  but  can  pay  for  them," 

said  she ; 
And  she  clambered  on  the  wagon,  minding  not  who  all  were 

by, 

With  a  laugh  of  reckless  romping  in  the  corner  of  her  eye. 

Clinging  round  his  brawny  neck,  she  clasped  her  fingers 
white  and  small, 

And  then  whispered,  "  Quick  !  the  letters  !  thrust  them  un 
derneath  my  shawl  ! 

Carry  back  again  this  package,  and  be  sure  that  you  are 
spry  !" 

And  she  sweetly  smiled  upon  him  from  the  corner  of  her  eye. 

Loud   the   motley  crowd  were  laughing  at  the   strange,  un- 

girlish  freak, 
And   the   boy   was  scared   and   panting,  and   so   dashed   he 

could  not  speak  ; 

And,  "  Miss,  /  have  good  apples,"  a  bolder  lad  did  cry ; 
But  she  answered,  "  No,  I  thank  you,"  from   the  corner  of 

her  eye. 


The  Little  Black-eyed  Rebel. 


'CLINGING  ROUND  HIS  BRAWNY  NECK,  SHE  CLASPED  HER  FINGERS  WHITE  AND  SMALL. 


With  the  news  of  loved  ones  absent  to  the  dear  friends  they 

would  greet, 
Searching   them    who    hungered    for   them,  swift   she    glided 

through  the  street. 

"  There  is  nothing  worth  the  doing  that  it  does  not  pay  to  try," 
Thought  the  little  black-eyed  rebel,  with  a  twinkle  in  her  eye. 


24  Young  Folks    Centennial  Rhymes. 


THE  BOSTON  BOYS. 

THE  General's2  room  had  a  look  of  gloom, 
His  face  bore  a  deep-marked  frown  ; 

With  wrinkled  brow  he  was  pondering  how 
To  govern  Boston  town. 

He  thought  of  the  care  he  was  doomed  to  bear 

From  the  rebels,  night  and  day, 
And  longed  once  more  to  be  on  the  shore 

Of  England,  far  away. 

He  mused  of  the  trials  and  self-denials 

That  manhood's  days  annoy, 
And  wished  he  could  play  now  and  then  a  day, 

A  jolly  and  careless  boy. 

Forgetting,  though  small  the  troubles  all 

Of  a  child,  from  manhood's  view, 
'Tis  easily  shown,  if  the  truth  be  known, 

Boys  have  their  troubles,  too. 


The  Boston  Boys.  25 

Now  the  sentinel  cried,  in  the  street  outside, 

"  You  bold  young  rebels,  go  !" 
And  the  words  came  loud,  as  from  a  crowd, 

•"When  we  do,  please  let  us  know!" 

"  We've  a  word  to  say  to  your  chief  to-day," 

Cried  a  clear  voice,  young  of  age  : 
"  You  may  as  well  know  we  neverll  go 

Till  we've  talked  with  General  Gage." 

Still  the  sentinel  cried,  in  the  street  outside, 

"  Begone,  you  rascally  crew  !" 
The  answer  sounded,  and  far  resounded, 

"  Please  hold  your  breath  till  we  do  !" 

• 
The  General  eyed  the  aid  by  his  side, 

And  said,  "You  had  best  go  out 
And  view  the  boys  who  are  making  this  noise, 

% 

And  what  it  is  all  about." 

And  the  aid-de-camp,  with  soldierly  tramp, 
Went,  looking  sober  and  sage  ; 


26  Young  Folks'  Centennial  Rhymes. 

But,  with  a  smile  on  his  face  the  while, 
Came  back  to  General  Gage. 

"  There's  a  sight  to  see  in  the  street,"  said  he  : 

"  Boys  a  hundred,  more  or  less ; 
And  still  they  stay,  and  still  they  say 

They've  a  grievance  for  redress. 

"And  some  have  a  trace  of  rage  in  their  face, 

And  some  a  smile  to  win ; 
And  some  are  dressed  in  the  city's  best, 

And  some  clad  ragged  and  thin." 

The  General  smiled,  for  he  had  a  child, 

With  many  a  winning  way ; 
And  he  said,  "  'Twere  no  sin ;  let  their  leaders  in, 

And  hear  what  they  have  to  say." 

So  eight  or  ten,  like  gentlemen, 

Each  one  with  cap  in  hand, 
Marched  in  and  bowed  to  the  General  proud, 

And  the  General's  smile  was  bland. 


The  Boston  Boys.  27 

Then  the  leader  did  say,  "We  have  come  to-day, 

As  of  right  it  doth  belong, 
To  tell  you  how  you  should  not  allow 

Your  soldiers  to  do  us  wrong. 

"  Once,  twice,  and  thrice  they  have  broke  the  ice 

Of  our  favorite  skating-pond  ; 
For  naught  it  was  done  but  to  spoil  the  fun 

Of  which  we  as  boys  are  fond. 

"  We  spoke  with  them  oft,  in  language  soft ; 

They  only  used  us  worse. 
We  threatened  to  see  the  powers  that  be ; 

They  answered  us  with  a  curse. 

"And  we  come  and  say  to  you  to-day, 

Boys  have  rights  as  well  as  men ; 
This  is  a  free  land,  and  we  will  not  stand 

The  breaking  our  ice  again  !" 

The  General  gazed  at  the  flushed  face  raised 
To  his,  with  a  pleased  surprise ; 


28  Young  Folks    Centennial  Rhymes 

And  the  courage-flame  that  is  ever  the  same 
Sprung  into  his  kindled  eyes. 


"THE  GENERAL  GAZED  AT  THE  FLUSHED  FACE  RAISED 
TO  HIS,  WITH  A  PLEASED  SURPRISE." 


He  turned  to  the  aid,  and  softly  said, 
"  We  never  can  laurels  wreathe, 


The  Boston  Boys.  29 

By  fighting  the  ones  whose  very  sons 
Draw  liberty  when  they  breathe. 

"  My  lads,  you  may  go ;  skate  to  and  fro 

In  your  daily  sports  once  more. 
If  to  spoil  your  peace  they  do  not  cease, 

I  will  punish  my  soldiers  sore. 

"  British  boys  true  in  spirit  are  you, 

Whatever  may  befall." 
But  they  raised  a  shout,  marching  briskly  out, 

"  No  !   no  !   we  are  Yankees  all !" 


3O  Young  Folks    Centennial  Rhymes. 


THE  FAITHFUL   SISTER. 

UP  through  the  Mohawk  Valley,  one  early  morning  of  May, 
The  Tories  came,  with  ball  and  flame,  and  plundered  all  the 
way. 

And  Samson  Sammons'  cottage  escaped  not  their  regard,3 
But  safely  he  and  his  strong  sons  three  were  quick  put  un 
der  guard. 

"Now  ready,  Samson   Sammons,  you   and  your  strong  sons 

three," 
A    soldier    said,  "  My   old    gray   head,  and    go    along    with 

me. 

"We  must  up  and  off  for  Canada;   we've  not  a  minute  to 

lose." 
Said  the  youngest,  "  No,  I  will  not  go  till  I've  covered  my 

feet  with  shoes." 


The  Faithful  Sister.  33 

"  We  wait  for  you  not  a  minute,"  the  cruel  soldier  said  : 
"  Rebel,  go  as  you  are,  with  your  false  feet  bare,  or  stay  with 
your  heart's  blood  shed." 

And    the    soldier    raised  his    bayonet,   to    do    as    he    did 

say; 

For  the  boy  had  sprung  for  a   ladder -rung,  determined  to 

have  his  way. 

But  his  faithful,  favorite  sister,  waiting  to  hear  no  more, 
Undaunted   one,  sprung  on  the  gun,  and  pressed  it  to   the 
floor ; 

And    shouted,  "  Burn    and   plunder,  ye   Tories,  strong   and 

brave ! 
You   never   shall   kill   this   brother  till   I   have  no  hand  to 

save !" 

For   a   second's   time   she   struggled   to  keep   her  desperate 

clasp ; 
But  with  teeth  firm  clenched,  the   stout  man  wrenched   his 

gun  from  the  maiden's  grasp. 
3 


34  Young  Folks'  Centennial  Rliymcs. 

Again  he  raised  the  musket,  with  death  to  close  the  strife  ; 
But  the  chief  said,  "  Stay  ;  she  shall  have  her  way  :  she  has 
earned  her  brother's  life." 

And  many  a  bright  year  after,  when  war  had  had  its  day, 
Children  there  were  who  petted  her,  caressing  her  locks  of 


And  blessed  her  for  the  courage  with  which  her  love  was 

rife, 

• 

Which  made  its  way  and  gained  the  day,  and  saved  their 
father's  life. 


The  Ride  of  Jennie  M'Neal.  35 


THE  RIDE    OF  JENNIE  M'NEAL. 

PAUL  REVERE*  was  a  rider  bold — 
Well  has  his  valorous  deed  been  told ; 
Sheridan's  ride5  was  a  glorious  one — 
Often  it  has  been  dwelt  upon. 
But  why  should  men  do  all  the  deeds 
On  which  the  love  of  a  patriot  feeds  ? 
Hearken  to  me,  while  I  reveal 
The  dashing  ride  of  Jennie  M'Neal. 

On  a  spot  as  pretty  as  might  be  found 

In  the  dangerous  length  of  the  Neutral  Ground, 

In  a  cottage,  cozy,  and  all  their  own, 

She  and  her  mother  lived  alone. 

Safe  were  the  two,  with  their  frugal  store, 

From  all  of  the  many  who  passed  their  door ; 


36  Young  Folks'  Centennial  Rhymes. 

For  Jennie's  mother  was  strange  to  fears, 
And  Jennie  was  large  for  fifteen  years ; 
With  vim  her  eyes  were  glistening, 
Her  hair  was  the  hue  of  a  blackbird's  wing ; 
'    And  while  the  friends  who  knew  her  well 
The  sweetness  of  her  heart  could  tell, 
A  gun  that  hung  on  the  kitchen  wall, 
Looked  solemnly  quick  to  heed  her  call ; 
And  they  who  were  evil-minded  knew 
Her  nerve  was  strong  and  her  aim  was  true. 
So  all  kind  words  and  acts  did  deal 
To  generous,  black-eyed  Jennie  M'Neal. 

One  night,  when  the  sun  had  crept  to  bed, 
And  rain-clouds  lingered  overhead, 
And  sent  their  surly  drops  for  proof 
To  drum  a  tune  on  the  cottage  roof, 
Close  after  a  knock  at  the  outer  door, 
There  entered  a  dozen  dragoons  or  more. 
Their  red  coats,  stained  by  the  muddy  road, 
That  they  were  British  soldiers  showed ; 
The  captain  his  hostess  bent  to  greet, 
Saying,  "  Madam,  please  give  us  a  bit  to  eat ; 


The  Ride  of  Jennie  M'NeaL  37 

We  will  pay  you  well,  and,  if  may  be, 

This  bright-eyed  girl  for  pouring  our  tea ; 

Then  we  must  dash  ten  miles  ahead, 

To  catch  a  rebel  colonel  abed. 

He  is  visiting  home,  as  doth  appear; 

We  will  make  his  pleasure  cost  him  dear." 

And  they  fell  on  the  hasty  supper  with  zeal, 

Close-watched  the  while  by  Jennie  M'Neal. 

For  the  gray-haired  colonel  they  hovered  near, 
Had  been  her  true  friend,  kind  and  dear; 
And  oft,  in  her  younger  days,  had  he 
Right  proudly  perched  her  upon  his  knee, 
And  told  her  stories  many  a  one 
Concerning  the  French  war  lately  done. 
And  oft  together  the  two  friends  were, 
And  many  the  arts  he  had  taught  to  her; 
She  had  hunted  by  his  fatherly  side, 
He  had  shown  her  how  to  fence  and  ride ; 
And  once  had  said,  "  The  time  may  be, 
Your  skill  and  courage  may  stand  by  me." 
So  sorrow  for  him  she  could  but  feel, 
Brave,  grateful-hearted  Jennie  M'Neal. 


38  Young  Folks    Centennial  Rhymes. 

With  never  a  thought  or  a  moment  more, 
Bare-headed  she  slipped  from  the  cottage  door, 
Ran  out  where  the  horses  were  left  to  feed, 
Unhitched  and  mounted  the  captain's  steed, 
And  down  the  hilly  and  rock-strewn  way 
She  urged  the  fiery  horse  of  gray. 
Around  her  slender  and  cloakless  form 
Pattered  and  moaned  the  ceaseless  storm ; 
Secure  and  tight,  a  gloveless  hand 
Grasped  the  reins  with  stern  command; 
And  full  and  black  her  long  hair  streamed, 
Whenever  the  ragged  lightning  gleamed. 
And  on  she  rushed  for  the  colonel's  weal, 
Brave,  lioness-hearted  Jennie  M'Neal. 

Hark  !   from  the  hills,  a  moment  mute, 
Came  a  clatter  of  hoofs  in  hot  pursuit; 
And  a  cry  from  the  foremost  trooper  said, 
"  Halt !    or  your  blood  be  on  your  head  !" 
She  heeded  it  not,  and  not  in  vain 
She  lashed  the  horse  with  the  bridle-rein. 
So  into  the  night  the  gray  horse  strode; 
His  shoes  hewed  fire  from  the  rocky  road ; 


SO   INTO    THE   NIGHT   THE   GRAY    HORSE   STRODE. 


The  Ride  of  Jennie  M'Neal.  41 

And  the  high-born  courage  that  never  dies 
Flashed  from  his  rider's  coal-black  eyes. 
The  pebbles  flew  from  the  fearful  race ; 
The  rain-drops  grasped  at  her  glowing  face. 
"  On,  on,  brave  beast !"  with  loud  appeal, 
Cried  eager,  resolute  Jennie  M'Neal. 

"  Halt !"  once  more  came  the  voice  of  dread  ; 

"  Halt !   or  your  blood  be  on  your  head  !" 

Then,  no  one  answering  to  the  calls, 

Sped  after  her  a  volley  of  balls. 

They  passed  her  in  her  rapid  flight, 

They   screamed   to    her   left,  they    screamed    to   her 

right ; 

But,  rushing  still  o'er  the  slippery  track, 
She  sent  no  token  of  answer  back, 
Except  a  silvery  laughter-peal, 
Brave,  merry-hearted  Jennie  M'Neal. 

So  on  she  rushed,  at  her  own  good  will, 
Through  wood  and  valley,  o'er  plain  and  hill ; 
The  gray  horse  did  his  duty  well, 
Till  all  at  once  he  stumbled  and  fell, 


Young  Folks    Centennial  Rhymes. 

Himself  escaping  the  nets  of  harm, 
But  flinging  the  girl  with  a  broken  arm. 
Still  undismayed  by  the  numbing  pain, 
She  clung  to  the  horse's  bridle-rein, 
And  gently  bidding  him  to  stand, 
Petted  him  with  her  able  hand ; 
Then  sprung  again  to  the  saddle-bow, 
And  shouted,  "  One  more  trial  now !" 
As  if  ashamed  of  the  heedless  fall, 
He  gathered  his  strength  once  more  for  all, 
And,  galloping  down  a  hill-side  steep, 
Gained  on  the  troopers  at  every  leap ; 
No  more  the  high-bred  steed  did  reel, 
But  ran  his  best  for  Jennie  M'Neal. 

They  were  a  furlong  behind,  or  more, 
When  the  girl  burst  through  the  colonel's  door, 
Her  poor  arm  helpless  hanging  with  pain, 
And  she  all  drabbled  and  drenched  with  "rain, 
But  her  cheeks  as  red  as  fire-brands  are, 
And  her  eyes  as  bright  as  a  blazing  star, 
And  shouted,  "  Quick  !    be  quick,  I  say  ! 
They  come  !    they  come  !     Away  !    away  !" 


The  Ride  of  Jennie  M'Neal.  43 

Then  sunk  on  the  rude  white  floor  of  deal. 
Poor,  brave,  exhausted  Jennie  M'Neal. 

The  startled  colonel  sprung,  and  pressed 

The  wife  and  children  to  his  breast, 

And  turned  away  from  his  fireside  bright, 

And  glided  into  the  stormy  night ; 

Then  soon  and  safely  made  his  way 

To  where  the  patriot  army  lay. 

But  first  he  bent,  in  the  dim  fire-light, 

And  kissed  the  forehead  broad  and  white, 

And  blessed  the  girl  who  had  ridden  so  well 

To  keep  him  out  of  a  prison-cell. 

The  girl  roused  up  at  the  martial  din, 

Just  as  the  troopers  came  rushing  in, 

And  laughed,  e'en  in  the  midst  of  a  moan, 

Saying,  "Good  sirs,  your  bird  has  flown. 

'Tis  I  who  have  scared  him  from  his  nest; 

So  deal  with  me  now  as  you  think  best." 

But  the  grand  young  captain  bowed,  and  said, 

"  Never  you  hold  a  moment's  dread. 

Of  womankind  I  must  crown  you  queen ; 

So  brave  a  girl  I  have  never  seen. 


44  Young  Folks'  Centennial  Rhymes. 

Wear  this  gold  ring  as  your  valor's  due ; 

And  when  peace  comes  I  will  come  for  you." 

But  Jennie's  face  an  arch  smile  wore, 

As  she  said,  "  There's  a  lad  in  Putnam's  corps, 

Who  told  me  the  same,  long  time  ago; 

You  two  would  never  agree,  I  know. 

I  promised  my  love  to  be  true  as  steel," 

Said  good,  sure-hearted  Jennie  M'Neal. 


Three  Scenes  of  a  Hero's  Life.  45 


THREE   SCENES   OF  A   HERO'S  LIFE.1 

I. 

OLD  Master  Hobby,  with  a  face 

Half  serious,  half  grotesque, 
And  no  one  else  within  that  place, 

Sat  writing  at  his  desk  • 

Conning  long  lessons,  drear  and  sad, 

To  make  his  boys  rehearse ; 
Writing  wise  copies  very  bad, 

For  them  to  copy  worse. 

Long,  empty  benches  stretched  around, 

And  desks  in  stern  array ; 
From  boys  outside  there  came  a  sound, 

Hard-working  at  their  play. 


Young  Folks'  Centennial  Rhymes. 

When  all  at  once  a  voice  he  heard  : 

"  You  are  the  thief,  not  I !" 
And  back  again  the  angry  word 

Came,  loud  and  clear,  "You  lie!" 

Old  Master  Hobby  left  his  seat : 

Across  the  dusty  floor, 
A  pair  of  ragged-slippered  feet 

His  lean  old  body  bore ; 

And  putting  up  his  wrinkled  face 

(Unseen  from  out  the  yard), 
Into  a  broken  glass-pane's  place, 

He  watched  and  listened  hard. 

With  fists  tight-clenched,  with  feet  firm-braced, 

Two  boys  stood,  fast  to  fight ; 
Both  savage-eyed  and  angry-faced, 

Shouting  with  all  their  might. 

Old  Master  Hobby  bent  his  brow 
And  turned  to  seek  the  door, 


Three  Scenes  of  a  Herds  Life.  47 

As  to  himself  he  muttered,  "  Now, 
I'll  whip  the  scamps  full  sore." 

But  at  that  moment  came  a  voice — 

As  if  from  one  in  doubt, 
Crying  above  the  tumult,  "  Boys, 

Why  don't  you  leave  it  out?" 

Then  reason  seemed  to  rule  with  one, 

And  he  at  last  replied, 
"I'll  leave  it  to  George  Washington,8 

To  no  one  else  beside." 

Whereto  the  other  did  agree ; 

When  George  appeared,  and  said, 
"Since  you  have  left  it  unto  me, 

Thus  to  decide  I'm  led  : 

"  Patrick,  three  pears,  if  true  his  claim, 

This  boy  has  lost  by  you; 
And  from  your  somewhat  blemished  name, 

I  rather  think  'tis  true. 


48 


Young  Folks    Centennial  Rhymes. 


"  '  SINCE   YOU   HAVE   LEFT   IT   UNTO   ME, 
THUS   TO    DECIDE    I'M    LED.'  " 

"Your  father  has  an  orchard  large; 

In  payment  for  your  tricks 
Against  your  friend,  I  hereby  charge 

That  you  shall  pay  him  six. 


"You,  Nehemiah,  here  'tis  claimed, 
Your  playmate's  top  have  broke ; 

And,  from  the  deeds  for  which  you're  famed, 
I  fear  'tis  truly  spoke. 


Three  Scenes  of  a  Herds  Life.  49 

"Right  easily  your  mind  you  bend 

The  making  toys  to  do; 
So  you  the  broken  top  shall  mend, 

And  give  him  one  that's  new." 

At  this  the  boys  stood  still  a  while, 

Thinking  what  should  be  done ; 
And  the  young  umpire,  with  a  smile, 

Was  calmly  looking  on. 

But  rage  again  came  surging  through 

Each  passion-heated  head, 
And  both  declared  they  would  not  do 

What  had  to  them  been  said. 

Whereat  the  young  peace-maker  cried, 

"You  left  the  case  to  me; 
I  took  pains  justly  to  decide, 

From  all  that  I  could  see. 

"But  you  with  heedless  rage  are  mad, 
For  foolish  fight  equipped ; 
4 


5o  Young  Folks    Centennial  Rhymes. 

And  each  would  probably  be  glad 
To  see  the  other  whipped. 

"So  if  you  will  not  heed  my  plan, 
But  both  are  bound  to  fight, 

I'll  whip  you  both — I  think  I  can — 
And  that  will  set  it  right." 

The  boys  full  well  his  bravery  knew 

In  every  time  of  need  ; 
And  each  stepped  back  a  pace  or  two, 

And  with  the  terms  agreed. 

The  Master  hobbled  back,  right  glad 

His  duties  to  rehearse, 
And  went  to  making  copies  bad, 

For  them  to  copy  worse ; 

And  muttered  to  himself,  "  That  one 

Of  all  my  lads  is  best, 
Who,  when  'tis  fitting  to  be  done, 

Can  govern  all  the  rest. 


Three  Scenes  of  a  Hero  s  Life. 

"The  boy  who  heard  this  childish  cause, 
And  when  his  mind  was  set, 

Stood  ready  to  enforce  his  laws, 
May  rule  a  nation  yet." 


II. 


MOTHER. 

MY  boy,  the  hour  is  approaching  I've  dreaded  long  to  know ; 
For  out   on  the   broad    blue  ocean   the  good  ship  waits   to 
go.' 

All  of  your  baggage  safely  upon  its  deck  is  stored  ; 
Many  a  love-made  token  is  safe  for  you  on  board. 

Soon  will   your  ears   be  greeted   by   the    mariner's  cheerful 

hail ; 
Soon  on  the  wide,  free  ocean  your  gallant  ship  will  sail. 


52  Young  Folks    Centennial  Rhymes. 

Wonder  not  at  the  freedom  with  which  I  count  my  fears ; 
Do  not  let  your  courage  be  cowed  by  my  rising  tears ; 

Never  from  any  other  can  my  fond  thoughts  be  heard  • 
Only  a  loving  mother  can  speak  a  mother's  word. 

Long  I  with  Heaven  have  pleaded  your  going  not  to  see ; 
Long  I  my  soul  have  flattered  this  cup  would  pass  from  me. 

But  there  is  naught  can  fetter  a  youth's  adventurous  joy; 
Manhood's  bravery  sparkles  in  the  heart  of  a  healthy  boy. 

Yet  as  I  think  of  the  fair  child  I  oft  have  cradled  to  sleep, 
As   tossed  in  the  rude  gale's  dangers,  as   drenched  by  the 
savage  deep, 

Come  to  my  heart  forebodings  that  will  not  go  their  way ; 
Comes  to  my  lips  a  yearning  to  plead  you  still  to  stay! 

SON. 

And  true  there  are  some  dangers  upon  the  merry  sea; 
And  sure  there  are  some  death-gales,  and  one  may  come 
to  me ; 


Three  Scenes  of  a  Hero's  Life.  53 

But    Danger    has    its    slumbers,    and     Safety    smiles    on 

care ; 
And  boys  soon  grow  to  manhood,  and  men  were  made  to 

dare. 

Although  you  would  do  o'ermuch  my  life  perchance  to 
save, 

Your  love  would  melt  to  pity  were  I  not  strong  and 
brave ; 

This  moment  your  affection  your  high  ambition  hides ; 

I  would  have  you  love  me,  mother,  and  proud  of  me  be 
sides. 


MOTHER. 

But  oft  I   have  dreamed   of  a  glory   that  waits   to   fall   on 

you  : 
A  glory  of  love   and   honor  that  shines  for  the  brave   and 

true. 

You  as  a  soldier-hero  were  o'er  the  earth  renowned ; 
You    by    maids    and    matrons    with    laurel    wreaths    were 
crowned. 


54  Young  Folks'  Centennial  Rhymes. 

First  in  cold  and  darkness  you  crossed  to  a  river-side, 
Where  to  your  brave  endeavors  was  victory  denied ; 

Next,    in    a    blaze    of    sunshine    'neath    skies    of    sweetest 

blue, 
Maids  and  matrons  waited  with  laurel  wreaths  for  you. 

Honors  and  praises  added  fresh  beauty  to  your  fame ; 
Heart-born  blessings  hovered  about  your  noble  name. 

In  no  dream  should  aught  be  to  turn  you  either  way ; 
Still  in  my  heart  is  a  yearning  to  plead  you  still  to  stay  ! 


SON. 

And  true  a  faithful  soldier  a  valiant  name  may  win  ; 
But  there  are  ports  of  honor  that  sailors  enter  in. 
if  for  my  brow  a  chaplet  awaiting  there  may  be, 
Why  can  I  not  go  find  it  upon  the  merry  sea? 

It  is  not  where  we  struggle  that  we  may  win  a  name ; 
Upon    both    land     and    water    true    courage    burns    the 
same. 


Three  Scenes  of  a  Herds  Life.  55 

Though  I  may  ne'er  be  famous,  I'll  mind  my  duty  true  ; 
And  that  is  something  noble  for  any  one  to  do. 


MOTHER. 

Who  can  dispute  a  moment  the  truth  of  what  you  say  ? 
Who  can  reject  the  logic  with  which  you  pave  your  way  ? 

If  on  the  scales  of  reason  this  question's  truth  be  weighed, 
Then  is  my  cause  defeated,  and  your  decision  made. 

But    there    is    something    stronger    by    which    my    soul    is 

stirred  ; 
E'en  when  the  brain  speaks  loudest,  the  heart  will  have  its 

word. 

Out  of  my  love's  bright  garden  the  thorns  of  self-will  grow ; 
And  as  the  hour  approaches,  I  will  not  let  you  go  ! 


SON. 

I  care  not  for  the  dangers — I  fear  not  for  the  pain; 
I  e'er  have  had  a  longing  to  live  upon  the  main  ; 


Young  Folks'  Centennial  Rhymes. 


"'WEEP    NOT,  MY    MORE   THAN    MOTHER;    WASTE    NOT   A    SINGLE   TEAR. 
I   WILL   NOT   LEAVE   YOU   GRIEVING;    I   STILL  WILL   TARRY   HERE.'" 


But  'tis  one  thing  to  bear  up  against  a  farewell's  smart, 
And  it  is  quite  another  to  break  a  mother's  heart. 


Weep  not,  my  more  than  mother;  waste  not  a  single  tear. 
I  will  not  leave  you  grieving ;   I  still  will  tarry  here. 


.Three  Scenes  of  a  Heros  Life.  57 

I   would    not   bruise  the   warm   arms   that   now   my   neck 

enfold, 
To  sail  across  the  ocean  a  solid  ship  of  gold. 


III. 

SWEETLY  down  the  Delaware 
Shone  the  smiling  April  sun  ; 

Maids  and  matrons  waited  there 
For  the  honored  Washington.10 

Down  the  river's  peaceful  side 

Calm  and  stately  he  did  ride ; 
On  his  proud  and  prancing  steed. 
He  a  hero  looked  indeed. 
Voices  loud  on  every  hand 

Named  him  bravest  of  the  brave, 
Riding  down  to  rule  the  land 

He  had  struggled  there  to  save. 


58  Young  Folks    Centennial  Rhymes. 

Where  amid  the  wintry  storm 

Long  he  fought  through  weary  hours, 
Now  his  tall  and  noble  form 

Rode  beneath  an  arch  of  flowers. 
Many  a  blessing  sweet  and  kind 
In  the  tasteful  wreaths  was  twined ; 
Many  a  kiss  of  purest  love 
Clustered  in  the  bloom  above  : 
And  the  words,  with  meaning  fraught, 

Met  his  eyes,  in  golden  hue, 
"He  who  for  the  mothers  fought 

Will  protect  the  daughters,  too." 

Just  before  his  steed's  high  head, 
Clad  in  robes  of  purest  white, 

Maidens  marched,  with  reverent  tread, 
Strewing  flowers  for  his  delight. 

From  beneath  the  welcome  feet 

Blessings  flashed,  his  eyes  to  greet ; 

From  above  the  stately  head 

Blessings  fresh  and  true  were  shed  ; 

From  the  eager  watching  throng 

Came  the  praise  of  great  deeds  done,. 


JUST    BEFORE   HIS   STEED'S   HIGH    HEAD, 
CLAD   IN    ROBES   OF   PUREST   WHITE, 

MAIDENS   MARCHED,  WITH    REVERENT   TREAD, 
STREWING    FLOWERS    FOR    HIS   DELIGHT." 


Three  Scenes  of  a  Hero's  Life.  61 

In  the  chorus  loud  and  long, 
"Welcome,  noble  Washington!" 

Could  the  mother  but  have  gazed 

On  the  pageant-glittering  stream, 
She  her  heart  to  Heaven  had  raised, 

Full  of  thanks  for  that  bright  dream ; 
But  the  scene  she  would  have  eyed 
With  no  look  of  pompous  pride, 
And  the  praise  she  would  have  heard 
With  no  proud,  exultant  word ; 
But  one  prayer  had  struggled  through, 

Fully  answered  yet  to  be  ; 
"Make  him  to  his  country  true, 

As  he  e'er  has  been  to  me." 


62  Young  Folks    Centennial  Rhymes. 


THE  PARENTS'   FAREWELL. 

FATHER. 

SHOULDER  arms,  my  good  boy ;   never  a  minute  pause ; 
Off  to  the  patriot  army,  an'  fight  for  your  country's  cause. 
Though  I  be  turned  o'  seventy,  I'd  go  with  you  to-day, 
Only  upon  a  long  march  a  crutch  gets  in  the  way. 

Long  I  fought  for  England  before  she  broke  her  trust ; 

I  stood  close  by  Braddock11  the  day  he  bit  the  dust. 

Oft  have  I  showed  the  Britishers  that  Yankees  was  no 
sham  ; 

An'  didn't  I  leave  my  right  leg  on  the  Plains  of  Abra 
ham  ?12 

Didn't  I  fight  the  Indians  as  well  as  a  man  could  do  ? 
Didn't  they  know  for  a  certain  that  I  was  enough  for  two  ? 
An'  when  I  buried  your  brothers,  with  Indian  bullets  slain, 
Could  any  body  tell  me  I  sought  revenge  in  vain  ? 


The  Parents    Farewell. 


THE  PARENTS'  FAREWELL. 

• 

But  now  with  sword  an'  musket  there's  nothing  I  can  do ; 
My  strength  is   all   in   the   old   time  —  my  righting   days    are 

through  ; 

An'  all  I  am  lately  good  for  is  to  sit  by  the  chimney-jamb, 
An'  tell   the   boys   how   we   whipped  'em   on  the    Plains   of 

Abraham. 


64  Young  Folks    Centennial  Rhymes. 

I'd    thought    I    might    doze    peaceful    the    evenin'    of    my 

days, 

With  you  to  wait  upon  me,  with  all  your  kindly  ways ; 
But  now  the  land  of  England  I  fought  so  faithful  for 
Is  raising  up  against  us  the  blood-red  hand  of  war. 

She's  up  an'  dressed  for  conflict — she's  comin'  over  here, 
As  if  we  couldn't  keep  house  with  none  to  interfere ; 
But  we  the  sour  old  lady"  a  piece  of  our  mind  will  give, 
And    show   her   to    the    door -way,    an'    send    her   home    to 
live. 

And    if  there's    scarce    o'    soldiers,   you   just   sit   down  and 

write, 
An'   I'll    come    an'  stop   a   bullet   from   some  one  who   can 

fight; 

An'  if  defeat  awaitin'  our  army  you  may  see, 
Then    do    not   mind   my  game  leg,  but  hurry  an'  send   for 

me. 

MOTHER. 

Four  have  to  the  death-shades  gone 
Of  the  five  sons  I  have  known  : 


The  Parents    Farewell.  65 

One  fell  on  a  war-ship's  deck, 
One  in  sight  of  strong  Quebec; 
Two  were  dead  before  me  laid 
By  the  Indians'  bloody  blade ; 
One  was  struck  down  in  his  prime 
By  the  hardships  of  the  time, 
And  his  manly  heart  lies  still 
'Neath  the  maples  on  the  hill. 
But  the  moments  will  not  stay ; 
Shoulder  arms,  and  march  away! 

Wait  a  moment  yet,  my  son  ! 
My  heart's  words  are  not  yet  done. 
We  are  losing  fast  our  hold — 
We  are  feeble,  bent,  and  old; 
Wealth  has  never  found  our  door — 
We  are  helpless,  weak,  and  poor. 
But  your  arm,  that  was  our  stay; 
Your  bright  smile,  that  cheered  our  way; 
Your  love,  which  the  food  has  given 
For  which  our  poor  hearts  have  striven, 
We  unto  our  country  owe. 
Shoulder  arms,  my  boy,  and  go  ! 
5 


66  Young  Folks'  Centennial  Rhymes. 

Wait  a  minute  !    one  word  more  ! 
I've  so  many  thoughts  in  store  ! 
May  be  in  your  childhood's  year 
We  were  somewhat  too  severe ; 
But  for  any  word  or  blow 
That  we  gave  you  long  ago, 
If  it  would  have  served  the  call, 
We  had  rather  they  did  fall 
Wheresoever  they  were  due — 
On  ourselves,  and  not  on  you. 
But  my  poor  old  tongue  is  slow ; 
Shoulder  arms,  my  boy,  and  go  ! 

Wait !   if  e'er  a  hasty  word 

From  our  trembling  lips  you've  heard, 

Do  not  mind  it  when  you're  gone; 

Let  your  love  for  us  keep  on. 

Old  folks'  weakness,  aches,  an'  pains 

Oft  are  o'ermuch  for  their  brains; 

Old  folks'  sorrows,  fear,  and  care 

Are  a  load  for  them  to  bear. 

You  must  due  allowance  make 

In  your  memory  for  our  sake. 


The  Parents    Farewell.  67 

But  my  words  too  many  grow; 
Shoulder  arms,  my  boy,  and  go ! 

One  word  more,  and  then  adieu  ! 
We  had  fondly  hoped  that  you, 
When  we  lay  in  death's  repose, 
Might  be  near,  our  eyes  to  close. 
£ut  'tis  overplain  to  see 
How  that  joy  may  never  be. 
Ere  your  flag  in  victory  waves, 
We  may  sleep  in  lonely  graves. 
Nothing  do,  in  toil  or  mirth, 
That  will  grieve  us,  if  on  earth ; 
And  if  dead,  perhaps  our  love 
Will  look  on  you  from  above ; 

So  do  nothing  that  if  named 
E'er  need  make  you  feel  ashamed. 
Either  here,  or  else  on  high, 
We  shall  meet  you  by-and-by; 
Live  so,  when  our  forms  you  see, 
Wheresoever  it  may  be, 


68  Young  Folks    Centennial  Rhymes. 

If  victorious  in  your  fight, 

By  our  fireside  warm  and  bright, 

Or  within  a  brighter  place, 

You  can  look  us  in  the  face. 

But  they  need  you  'gainst  the  foe; 

Shoulder  arms,  my  boy,  and  go ! 


How  Israel  Was   Whipped.  69 


HOW  ISRAEL    WAS    WHIPPED." 

SCENE,  BOSTON;   TIME,  1730. 

Enter  ISRAEL,  a  boy  dad  in  country  garb,  and  staring  at  every 
thing  around  him. 

ISRAEL. 

WELL,  if  this  don't  beat  all !      I  never  knew 
There  were  so  many  housen  the  whole  world  through. 
Whichever  way  I  look,  a  house  I  see ; 
They're  thick  as  girls  is,  at  a  pearin'-bee. 
I  used  to  Salem  town  quite  large  allow, 
But  Salem  ain't  no  object  to  me  now. 
Why,  this  'ere  town  would  never  stop  before 
It  ate  ours  up,  an'  smacked  its  lips  for  more ! 
And  all  these  people,  steppin'  'round  here,  too ! 
What  under  sun  can  they  all  find  to  do? 


/O  Young  Folks    Centennial  Rhymes. 

An'  some  of  them  are  dressed  as  fine  an'  gay 
As  if  there  was  a  trainin'  here  to-day ! 

Enter  a    City    Boy,  much    larger  than    ISRAEL,  and  smartly 

dressed. 

CITY  BOY. 

What  are  you  staring  at,  my  tender  one? 
What  are  you  looking  for,  my  verdant  son  ? 

ISRAEL. 

I'm  starin'  at  whatever  takes  my  eye; 
I'm  hunting  for  a  gentleman.      Good-bye. 

CITY  BOY  (changing  his  manner). 
Why,  I'm  a  gentleman,  and  I  will  do 
My  best  to  help  you,  if  you  want  me  to. 
I  know  the  city  well ;  you,  by  your  face, 
Are  but  a  stranger  here.      Is  this  the  case? 

ISRAEL. 

It  ain't  for  me  to  rub  out  what  you  say; 
I  am  a  stranger,  come  from  Salem  way, 


How  Israel  Was   Whipped. 

A-saltin'  down  such  facts  as  I  can  see ; 

An'  all  these  sights  'round  here  is  news  to  me. 

CITY  BOY. 

Is  that  a  fact?     We'll  soon  put  that  to  rights; 
I'll  take  you  round,  and  show  you  all  the  sights. 

ISRAEL. 

Well,  if  you  want  to,  all  I've  got  to  say, 

Is,  if  you  ever  come  out  Salem  way, 

I'll  take  you  to  bring  up,  while  you  are  there, 

An'  show  you  'round,  an'  treat  you  good  an'  square. 

CITY    BOY. 

All  right,  my  rose ;  I'll  put  that  promise  down. 
And  now  let's  take  a  look  about  the  town. 
Perhaps  you've  heard  it  said,  "out  Salem  way," 
The  world  turns  on  its  axis  once  each  day? 

ISRAEL. 
Well,   yes ;    that's   what    last   winter's    school  -  ma'am 

said, 
But  hanged  if  I  could  get  it  through  my  head. 


72  Young  Folks    Centennial  Rhymes. 

It  was  so  mighty  hard  for  me  to  see, 
The  woman  had  to  whip  it  into  me. 

CITY  BOY. 

Well,  it  is  true ;  although  it  moves  so  slow, 
That,  do  your  best,  you  can  not  see  it  go ; 
But  ere  he's  here  long  every  body  learns, 
This  city  is  the  place  'round  which  it  turns. 
You  see  that  church-spire,  just  before  your  nose? 
Well,  that's  the  very  point  'round  which  it  goes. 

ISRAEL. 

You're  sure,  I  hope  (if  'twouldn't  be  impolite). 
That  this   isn't   something  that  you've  dreamed   some 
night  ? 

CITY  BOY. 

Oh,  yes !  it's  all  dead  truth,  strange  as  may  seem. 
Why,  bless  your  soul !   I  have  no  time  to  dream ! 
For  if  the  truth  is  known — 'cross,  up,  and  down— 
I  own  about  three-quarters  of  this  town. 
You  see  those  ships  out  yonder  in  the  bay? 
They  all  are  mine;   I  build  one  every  day. 


How  Israel  Was   Whipped.  73 

ISRAEL. 

It's  getting  late,  and  if  you  have  not  made 
One  for  to-day,  you'd  best  be  at  your  trade. 

CITY  BOY. 

Oh,  I've  a  thousand  men  my  work  to  do  ! 
I  send  my  ships  to  every  country,  too  : 
To  Europe,  Asia,  Africa,  they  go ; 
I've  lately  put  wings  on  them — do  you  know — 
And  sent  them  to  the  moon.     When  the  wind's  fair, 
We  Boston  people  get  our  cheese  from  there. 

ISRAEL. 

Now  look  ye  here,  my  fine  friend,  if  ye  please : 

Don't  tell  me  that  the  moon  is  made  o'  cheese  ! 

If  that  we  find  one  blackbird  in  a  nest, 

We  straightway  kill  for  blackbirds  all  the  rest; 

So  this  last  being  any  thing  but  true, 

I  rather  think  you've  lied  the  whole  way  through. 

CITY  BOY  (angrily). 

You  doubt  my  word,  you  green  young  country  stick  ! 
Well,  then,  I'll  trounce  you  till  I  make  you  sick ! 


74  Young  Folks    Centennial  Rhymes, 

ISRAEL. 

You've  told  a-many  things  I  falsehoods  guessed ; 
I  b'lieve  I  doubt  that  more  than  all  the  rest. 

BY-STANDER  (to  City  Boy). 
Stand  back,  you  coward-lubber !   don't  you  see, 
You  fool,  that  you  are  twice  as  big  as  he  ? 

CITY    BOY. 

No ;   let  him  come  an'  touch  me  if  he  dar's ! 

I'll  make  him  think  the  moon  is  made  of  stars ! 

{They  fight;  ISRAEL  throws  the  City  Boy, 
and  holds  him  by  the  throat,  the  by 
standers  applauding. 

Pray  let  me  up !   I  only  was  in  fun ! 

ISRAEL. 

An'  I'm  in  earnest.      Now,  my  pretty  one, 
You  take  that  church-spire  story  back? 

CITY    BOY. 

Oh  yes  ! 


How  Israel  Was   Whipped.  75 

ISRAEL. 
You'll  own  you  don't  own  Boston  now,  I  guess? 

CITY    BOY. 

Oh  yes  !   that  was  a  piece  of  nonsense  too. 
I'll  give  my  city  claims  all  up  to  you  ! 

ISRAEL. 
You  own  the  moon  ain't  cheese? 

CITY  BOY. 

Oh  yes  !   oh,  dear  ! 

ISRAEL. 
You'll  own  you  are  a  liar,  as  you  lie  here  ? 

CITY  BOY. 

Yes,  yes  !   I  own  it  all !     Just  let  me  go, 
An'  after  this  my  tongue  shall  move  more  slow. 

ISRAEL. 

Then,  take  your  feet,  an'  go  upon  your  way, 
An'  be  more  truthful  on  another  day. 


76  Young  Folks'  Centennial  Rhymes. 

An'  when  a  country  boy  comes  into  town, 
Don't  try,  first  thing,  to  make  him  out  a  clown ; 
Use  him  as  you'd  be  used ;   and,  if  you  please, 
Don't  tell  him  that  the  moon  is  made  of  cheese. 


Little  Golden-hair.  77 


LITTLE    GOLDEN-HAIR." 

LITTLE  GOLDEN -HAIR  was   watching,  in   the  window  broad 

and  high, 
For  the  coming  of  her  father,  who  had  gone  the  foe  to 

fight; 
He  had  left  her  in  the  morning,  and  had  told  her  not  to 

cry, 

But   to  have   a  kiss   all   ready  when  he  came  to  her   at 
night. 

She  had  wondered,  all  the  day, 
In  her  simple,  childish  way, 
And  had  asked,  as  time  went  on, 
Where  her  father  could  have  gone; 
She  had   heard   the  muskets  firing,  she  had  counted   every 

one, 

Till  the   number   grew  so   many  that  it  was  too  great  a 
load  ; 


/8  Young  Folks'  Centennial  Rhymes. 

Then  the  evening  fell  upon  her,  clear  of  sound  of  shout  or 

gun, 

And  she  gazed  with  wistful  waiting  down  the  dusty  Con 
cord  road. 

Little  Golden-hair  had  listened,  not  a  single  week  before, 

While  the  heavy  sand  was  falling  on  her  mother's  coffin-lid : 
And  she  loved  her  father  better  for  the  loss  that  then  she 

bore, 

And  thought  of  him,  and  yearned  for  him,  whatever  else 
she  did. 

So  she  wondered  all  the  day 
What  could  make  her  father  stay, 
And  she  cried  a  little,  too, 
As  he'd  told  her  not  to  do ; 
And  the  sun  sunk  slowly  downward  and  went  grandly  out 

of  sight, 

And   she   had   the   kiss   all   ready  on  his  lips  to  be   be 
stowed; 
But  the  shadows  made  one    shadow,  and  the  twilight  grew 

to  night, 

And  she  looked,  and  looked,  and  listened,  down  the  dusty 
Concord  road. 


Little  Golden-hair.  79 

Then  the  night  grew  light  and  lighter,  and  the   moon  rose 

full  and  round, 

In  the  little  sad  face  peering,  looking  piteously  and  mild ; 
Still  upon  the  walks  of  gravel  there  was  heard  no  welcome 

sound, 

And   no   father   came   there,  eager   for  the   kisses   of  his 
child. 

Long  and  sadly  did  she  wait, 
Listening  at  the  cottage-gate ; 
Then  she  felt  a  quick  alarm, 
Lest  he  might  have  come  to  harm ; 
With   no   bonnet   but    her    tresses,  no   companion   but    her 

fears, 
And   no   guide  except  the  moonbeams   that  the  pathway 

dimly  showed, 

With  a  little  sob  of  sorrow,  quick  she  threw  away  her  tears, 
And   alone   she  bravely  started  down  the  dusty  Concord 
road. 

And  for  many  a  mile  she  struggled,  full  of  weariness  and 

pain, 

Calling  loudly  for  her  father,  that  her  voice  he  might  not 
miss ; 


8o  Young  Folks    Centennial  Rhymes. 

Till  at  last,  among  a  number  of  the  wounded  and  the  slain, 
Was  the  white  face  of  the  soldier,  waiting  for  his  daugh 
ter's  kiss. 

Softly  to  his  lips  she  crept, 
Not  to  wake  him  as  he  slept; 
Then,  with  her  young  heart  at  rest, 
Laid  her  head  upon  his  breast; 
And  upon  the  dead  face  smiling,  with  the  living  one  near 

by, 

All  the  night  a  golden  streamlet  of  the  moonbeams  gen 
tly  flowed ; 
One  to  live,  a  lonely  orphan,  one  beneath  the  sod  to  lie — 

They  found  them  in  the  morning  on  the  dusty  Concord 
road. 


The  Prize  of  the  "Margaretta"  81 


THE  PRIZE   OF  THE  " MARGARETTA:' 


FOUR  young  men,  of  a  Monday  morn, 
Heard  that  the  flag  of  peace  was  torn ;  " 

Heard  that  "  rebels,"  with  sword  and  gun, 
Had  fought  the  British  at  Lexington, 

While  they  were  far  from  that  .bloody  plain, 
Safe  on  the  green-clad  shores  of  Maine. 

With  eyes  that  glittered,  and  hearts  that  burned, 
They  talked  of  the  glory  their  friends  had  earned, 

And  asked  each  other,  "What  can  we  do, 
So  our  hands  may  prove  that  our  hearts  are  true?" 
6 


82  Young  Folks    Centennial  Rhymes. 


n. 

Silent  the  Margaretta  lay, 
Out  on  the  bosom  of  the  bay ; 

On  her  masts  rich  bunting  gleamed ; 
Bravely  the  flag  of  England  streamed. 

The  young  men  gazed  at  the  tempting  prize — 
They  wistfully  glanced  in  each  other's  eyes; 

Said  one,  "We  can  lower  that  cloth  of  dread, 
And  hoist  the  pine-tree  flag16  instead. 

"We  are  only  boys  to  the  old  and  sage; 
We  have  not  yet  come  to  manhood's  age ; 

"But   we   can   show   them   that,  when   there's 

need, 
Men  may  follow  and  boys  may  lead." 

Tightly  each  other's  hand  they  pressed. 
Loudly  they  cried,  "  We  will  do  our  best ; 


The  Prize  of  the  " Margarctta"  83 


"The  pine-tree  flag,  ere  day  is  passed, 
Shall  float  from  the  Margarettd  s  mast.' 


in. 

They  ran  to  a  sloop  that  lay  near  by ; 

They  roused  their  neighbors,  with  hue  and  cry ; 

They  doffed  their  hats,  gave  three  loud  cheers, 
And  called  for  a  crew  of  volunteers. 

Their  bold,  brave  spirit  spread  far  and  wide, 
And  men  came  running  from  every  side. 

Curious  armed  were  the  dauntless  ones, 
With  axes,  pitchforks,  scythes,  and  guns ; 

They  shouted,  "  Ere  yet  this  day  be  passed, 
The  pine-tree  grows  from  the  schooner's  mast !" 


IV. 

With  sails  all  set,  trim  as  could  be, 
The  Margaretta  stood  out  to  sea. 


84  Young  Folks    Centennial  Rhymes. 

With  every  man  and  boy  in  place, 
The  gallant  Yankee  sloop  gave  chase. 

Rippled  and  foamed  the  sunlit  seas ; 
Freshened  and  sung  the  soft  May  breeze ; 

And  came  from  the  sloop's  low  deck,  "Hurray! 
We're  gaining  on  her !     We'll  win  the  day !" 

A  sound  of  thunder,  echoing  wide, 
Came  from  the  Margaretta's  side; 

A  deadly  crash,  and  a  loud  death-yell, 
And  one  of  the  brave  pursuers  fell. 

They  aimed  a  gun  at  the  schooner  then, 
And  sent  the  compliment  back  again; 

He  who  at  the  helm  of  the  schooner  stood, 
Covered  the  deck  with  his  rich  life-blood. 

v. 

Each  burning  to  pay  a  bloody  debt, 
The  crews  of  the  hostile  vessels  met ; 


The  Prize  of  the  "  Margaret  ta"  85 

The  Western  nation  now  to  be, 
Made  her  first  fight  upon  the  sea. 

And  not  till  forty  men  were  slain, 
Did  the  pine-tree  flag  a  victory  gain; 

But  at  last  the  hearts  of  the  Britons  quailed, 
And  grandly  the  patriot  arm  prevailed. 

One  of  the  youths,  the  deed  to  crown, 
Grasped  the  colors  and  pulled  them  down  ; 

And  raised,  'mid  cries  of  wild  delight, 
The  pine-tree  flag  of  blue  and  white. 

And  the  truth  was  shown,  for  the  world  to  read, 
That  men  may  follow  and  boys  may  lead. 


86  Young  Folks    Centennial  Rhymes. 


THE  PRINTER-BOY  TRAMP." 

OH,  mother !    come   and   see   this  lad,  a-loitering  down   the 

street ! 

As  queer  a  looking  one  he  is  as  one  would  want  to  meet. 
His  face  is  full  of  thought  and  dirt — his  brow's   a    savage 

scowl ; 

.  4 

He  has  a  wise  expression  on,  as  solemn  as  an  owl. 

His  hair  has  not  been  combed  to-day  —  that's  easy  under 
stood  ; 

But  there's  something  in  his  eye,  mother,  that's  sensible  and 
good. 

His  clothes  are  somewhat  patched  and  torn — his  hat's  the 

worse  for  wear, 

He  perches  it  upon  his  head  with  very  little  care ; 
His  shoes   are  rough,  and  bear  the  marks   of  many  a  dusty 

mile ; 
He's  any  thing  but  a  success,  considered  for  his  style. 


The  Printer-boy   Tramp.  87 

He   has   a   monster   of  a   foot  —  a   large   and  sun -browned 

hand — 
But  there's  something  in  his  air,  mother,  like   one   born   to 

command. 

Look !     As  he  walks  along  the  street,  with  proud,  indifferent 

tread, 
Close   underneath    each    of   his    arms    he    hugs    a    loaf  of 

bread ! 
He  does  not  mind  the  difference  'twixt  a  dining-room  and 

street, 
But    from    a    loaf   that's    in    his    hand    continues    still    to 

eat. 
The  boys  they  wink   and   laugh   at   him ;   the   people  smile 

and  stare ; 
But  there's  something  in  his  way,  mother,  that  says  he  does 

not  care. 

\ 

He's  walked  away;   but,  strange  to  say,  he  still  runs  in  my 

head ; 

I  still  can  see  him,  in   my  mind,  with  his  three   loaves   of 
bread. 


88  Young  Folks    Centennial  Rhymes. 

I  know  he  is  no  common  lad — of  course,  it's  all  the  same; 
How  awkward  and  how  rude  he  was  ! — I  wish  I  knew  his 

name. 
Of    course,    I    do    not    care    for    him,    so    shabby    and    so 

queer ; 
But  there's  something  in  my  heart,  mother,  that  wishes   he 

were  here. 


Nellie's  Lie.  89 


NELLIE '8  LIE. 

As  Nellie  'neath  the  oak-tree  sat  and  sewed, 
There  came  a  Hessian18  soldier  up  the  road  ; 
His  arm  was  red,  where  blood  from  it  had  flowed. 

Panting,  he  walked  up  at  a  feeble  pace, 

He  looked  the  little  girl  straight  in  the  face, 

And  said,  "  Please  give  to  me  a  hiding-place  ! 

"From  death-hounds,  close  pursuing  me,  I  fly; 
Five  of  my  foemen  swift  are  coming  nigh, 
And  if  they  find  me,  I  must  surely  die. 

"I  have  a  little  girl  across  the  sea, 
About  your  size,  and  she  is  fond  of  me, 
As  you  of  your  own  father  sure  must  be. 


90  Young  Folks    Centennial  Rhymes. 

"  She  has  a  heart  as  tender  as  'tis  true ; 
If  now  to  her  your  father,  wounded,  fiew, 
I  know  that  she  would  do  as  much  for  you. 

"Perhaps,  to-day,  while  I  from  danger  flee, 

By  our  small  cottage,  far  across  the  sea, 

Poor  Gretchen  weeps,  and  vainly  waits  for  me." 

And  Nellie  paused ;   it  was  her  father's  foe ; 
But  could  she  turn  away  and  bid  him  go, 
Bleeding  and  weak,  to  meet  a  mortal  blow  ? 

And  still  she  paused,  and  pity  fought  with  fear; 
She  heard  the  tramp  of  soldiers  coming  near — 
She  pointed  to  the  tree,  and  whispered,  "  Here  ! 


"Within  these  branches,  safe  the  leaves  amid, 
From  all  my  playmates  I  have  often  hid ; 
Climb  up,  and  do  not  come  till  you  are  bid  !" 


SHE    BOUND    HIS   ARM. 


Nellie  s  Lie.  93 

The  soldiers  dashed  up,  saying,  "You  must  know, 

We  chase  to-day  a  bloody  Hessian  foe  ; 

We  think  you  must  have  seen  him ;   is  it  so  ?" 

She  blushed — she  pondered  what  was  wrong  or  right — 
Then  looked  up,  with  her  great  eyes  sparkling  bright, 
And  answered,  "Yes;   he  just  went  out  of  sight." 

"  Did  he  go  up,  or  down,  or  straight  ahead  ?" 
Pointing,  meanwhile,  to  where  a  cross-road  led ; 
"Up,"  Nellie,  at  her  sewing,  faintly  said. 

Right  onward  still  swept  the  pursuing  band ; 
The  Hessian  came  down  at  the  girl's  command; 
He  humbly  kissed  his  young  preserver's  hand. 

She  bound  his  arm — he  bade  her  not  to  fear ; 
She  gave  him  food — he  brushed  away  a  tear; 
She  said  "Good-bye" — he  sought  the  forest  near. 

She  thought,  "  Perhaps  'twas  not  to  country  true, 

But  'twas  what  I  would  have  his  girl  to  do ; 

And  Gretchen — wouldn't  she  thank  me,  if  she  knew !" 


94  Young  Folks    Centennial  Rhymes. 


DICEY  LANGSTON." 

SCENE,  MR.  LANGSTON'S  HOUSE,  IN  LAURENS  DISTRICT, 
SOUTH  CAROLINA;   TIME,  NIGHT. 

MRS.    LANGSTON. 

Hark  !   what's  that  noise  ? 

MR.    LANGSTON. 

Nothing,  except  the  wind 
Flying  among  the  trees. 

MRS.    LANGSTON. 

But  what  is  that? 

MR.    LANGSTON. 

Some  rabbit,  or  some  fox,  that  prowls  outside, 
Seeking  for  food  or  shelter. 


Dicey  Langston.  95 

MRS.    LANGSTON. 

And  what's  that? 

MR.    LANGSTON. 

An  owl — bircl-watch-dog  of  the  woods :   he  makes 
The  night  seem  twice  as  lonely. 

MRS.    LANGSTON. 

Oh,  my  child  ! 

Rushing  through  dangers,  creeping  over  snares, 
For   three   long   days   and   nights   you   have   been 

gone, 

And  I  a-sitting  safely  here  at  home  ! 
Why  did  I  let  you  go  upon  this  journey  ? 

MR.    LANGSTON. 

To  save  your  other  children. 

MRS.    LANGSTON. 

And,  perhaps, 

Lose  them  the  same,  and  her  besides.     'Tis  sad 
To  sit  here  childless,  may  be,  and  reflect 
That  she  to-night  might  be  here  safe  with  me, 


96  Young  Folks'  Centennial  Rhymes. 


If  I  had  not  surrendered  to  her  pleading  ! 
What's  that? 


MR.    LANGSTON. 

A  step. 

MRS.    LANGSTON. 

A  voice  !     Her  voice,  thank  God  ! 
Enter  DICEY. 

DICEY. 

Home  again,  safe  !     Oh,  'twas  an  awful  tramp  ! 
Why,  father,  how  you  hug  me  !     And  you,  mother, 
Are  crying  so,  it  brings  tears  to  my  eyes. 
Why,  one  would  think  I  had  been  gone  a  year, 
And  then  the  word  had  come  that  I  was  dead, 
Instead  of  being  absent  three  short  days, 

And  then  returning  safely  home  to  you. 

\ 

MRS.    LANGSTON. 

Three  days  and  nights  !     You  must  be  starved  to 
death  ! 


Dicey  Langs  ton.  97 

DICEY. 

Oh  no  !  not  near  !  Tis  not  so  easy  done  ! 
Two  things  are  o'erhard  with  a  healthy  girl : 
Those  are,  to  starve  her,  and  to  break  her  heart. 

MR.    LANGSTON. 

You  must  be  tired  to  death  with  lack  of  sleep. 

DICEY. 

Oh  no  !   I  slept  to-day  in  the  safe  house 
Of  one  who  stands  within  her  door,  and  shouts, 
"  Long  live  our  great  and  glorious  George  the  Third  !" 
But  whispers  to  her  girls,  "Get  supper,  now, 
For  the  next  rebel  who  may  come  along." 
She  hides  the  patriot  colors  in  a  trunk, 
And  when  there's  news  of  rebel  victories, 
She  drapes  her  bedroom  with  our  country's  flag, 
Shuts  the  doors  tight,  that  none  outside  may  hear, 
And  shouts,  "  Hurra  for  Washington  and  right !" 

MRS.    LANGSTON. 

Now  you  are  safe,  dear  daughter,  what  about 
The  ones  you  went  to  save  ?     Were  you  in  time  ? 

7 


Young  Folks    Centennial  Rhymes. 

DICEY. 

Yes,  in  full  time  !     Let  me  alone  for  that ! 
And  the  red  Cunningham  will  have  to  scent 
Farther  than  he  has  ever  done  before, 
If  he  makes  good  his  threat  of  finding  them. 
Let  him  look  out  they  are  not  finding  him  ! 
For  they  are  rallying  swift  to  give  him  fight. 

MR.     LANGSTON. 

Your  journey  must  have  been  a  rough  one,  girl. 

DICEY.  •    . 

'Twas  not  a  pleasure  trip,  I  must  confess. 
It  was  a  long  and  fearful  walk.     The  night 
I  left  my  home,  the  storms  were  quarreling; 
And  as  I  felt  along  the  hard-found  path, 
Great  clouds  seemed  e'en  a'most  to  brush  my  head. 
Cold  drops  plashed  in  my  face ;   the  wind  sometimes 
Made  such  a  doleful  sound,  it  almost  seemed 
That  'twas  some  dead  man,  waked  up  in  his  grave. 
Once,  at  first  sight,  I  thought  I  saw  a  ghost, 
That  beckoned  to  me  with  its  long  white  arms, 
As  if  to  call  me  to  it ;   then  I  shouted, 


Dicey  Langston.  99 

* 

"  Say  f    If  you  are  an  honest  rebel  ghost, 

Come  and  shake  hands ;   if  not,  go  on  your  way, 

And  let  an  honest  girl  go  hers  in  peace" 

MRS.    LANGSTON. 

Why,  Dicey  !     How  could  you  dare  be  so  bold  ? 

DICEY. 

What  is  a  ghost,  for  any  one  to  fear  ? 
Are  ghosts  good  eaters  ?    Would  they  eat  me  up  ? 
I  do  not  think  there  ever  was  a  ghost. 
But  if  there  are  such  things,  they're  not  so  fierce 
That  any  one  need  fear  them.      Now,  when  I 
Am  not  afraid  of  any  man  alive, 
Tell  me,  why  should  I  fear  him  when  he's  dead? 
Ghosts  may  have  arms ;  but  have  they  flesh  on  them  ? 
They  may  have  mouths ;   but  have  they  teeth  in  them  ? 
They're  cowards,  too,  and  ne'er  can  stand  their  ground, 
If  you  will  talk  good  honest  sense  to  them. 
I'd  rather  that  a  thousand  ghosts  would  come, 
And  grin  about  me  with  their  faces  white, 
And  beckon  to  me  with  their  long  thin  arms, 
Than  have  a  live  wolf  growl  too  close  to  me. 


ioo  Young  Folks    Centennial  Rhymes. 

MR.    LANGSTON. 

You  wouldn't  run  for  the  wolf;  but,  I'll  be  bound, 
'Twas  not  a  ghost.     Go  on  and  tell  the  rest 
•About  your  journey.     We  are  fast  to  hear. 

DICEY. 

Well,  when  I  started  for  it,  and  cried  out, 
It  disappeared,  as  ghosts  will  always  do ; 
I  think  my  fancy  must  have  made  it  all. 
Just  then  I  stumbled  on  some  little  thing, 
That  gave  a  cry  of  anguish ;   and    I  stooped 
And  picked  it  up ;    it  was  a  little  bird ; 
And  it  had  lost  its  nest,  and  helpless  lay, 
With  none  to  care  for  it.      I  picked  it  up, 
And  said,  " My  poor,  weak,  helpless,  silly  thing! 
This  is  a  cold  world  into  which  you've  come, 
Thinking,  perhaps,  that  you  can  live  in  it; 
But  here  you  are,  just  ready  now  to  die. 
Say  !  is  it  war-time,  too,  among  the  birds, 
That  you  are  here  so  helpless  and  so  lone, 
Without  a  mother  nigh  to  care  for  you  ? 
Perhaps  the  great  God — who  has  said  that  He 
Would  never  see  a  sparrow  fall  without 


Dicey  LavgtfoK  ; ; \^ ;  r ;  ;  y  j  :  ,     i o i 

Noting  just  where  it  lay — has  picked  me  out 
To  save  your  life ;   so  come  with  me,  my  dear" 
It  nestled  trustingly  into  my  hand  ; 
And  so  I  carried  it  unto  the  end 
Of  my  long  journey,  and  protected  it 
Even  when  dangers  hung  above  my  head. 
I  left  it  safe  with  friends,  and  made  them  say, 
That  when  'twas  strong  they'd  give  its  freedom 
back. 

MR.    LANGSTON. 

Well,  that  was  noble,  good,  and  kind  in  you, 
And,  mayhap,  interesting — to  the  bird ; 
But  we  had  rather  hear  what  'came  of  you. 

DICEY. 

Trudging  along  the  road,  I  heard  a  sound 
Like  horses'  hoof-steps ;   so  I  drew  one  side, 
And  hid  myself  behind  a  wayside  tree, 
More  like  some  rogue  than  a  well-meaning  girl 
Struggling  to  save  the  lives  of  them  she  loved. 
It  was  a  company  of  British  horse  ; 
And  as  they  galloped  past,  I  heard  them  drone, 


Centennial  Rhymes. 


"God  save  the  King!"     Twas  all  that  I  could  do, 
To  keep  from  shouting,  so  that  they  could  hear, 
"And  take  him  into  heaven  this  very  night  T 

MRS.    LANGSTON. 

Dicey,  you  must  not  wish  that  folks  would  die. 

DICEY.    ' 

I  know  'twas  wicked  ;   but  it  seemed,  somehow, 
As  if  the  thought  would  come,  in  spite  of  me. 

% 

MR.    LANGSTON. 

Tell  your  adventures  ;   let  your  politics 
Go  till  another  time. 

DICEY. 

Your  pardon,  father. 

Well,  on  I  walked,  through  midnight  cold  and  blac'k  ; 
And,  just  before  the  morning  streaked  the  east, 
Came  to  the  river's  ford.      The  waters  raged, 
Swollen  by  the  rains,  and  all  was  drear  and  dark. 
What  should  I  do  ?      I  stood  there  for  a  while, 
Thinking  what  I  should  do  :    behind  me,  home 


Dicey  Langs  ton.  103 

And  parents,  needing  my  good  watch  and  care ; 
Before  me  was  my  duty ;   but,  perhaps, 
Death  in  between  us.      For  a  while  I  stood; 
Then,  with  a  stern  resolve  to  do  my  best, 
And  a  short  prayer,  I  stepped  into  the  stream. 
The  water  touched  my  knees — my  waist — my  arms  5 
I  felt  a  shudder  as  the  cold  chills  struck 
Through  me ;   and  still  the  water  crept  and  crept, 
Up  to  my  shoulders — to  my  chin — my  mouth ; 
And  still  I  prayed  for  guidance,  and  pressed  on.  ' 
Which  way  I  went,  or  up  or  down  the  stream, 
Or  whether  for  the  shore — I  did  not  know; 
I  only  prayed,  and  struggled  on.      And  once 
The  water  swept  up  past  my  mouth;   and  then 
I  strangled,  but  kept  on ;   when,  in  a  trice, 
It  grew  less  deep — less  deep — less  deep — and  then 
I  came  out  on  the  bank,  and  found  the  road, 
And  once  more  went  my  way,  drenched  to  the  skin, 
And   cold,  and   chilled,  and   clogged   with   clinging 

drops ; 

But  my  heart  felt  so  warm,  it  almost  seemed 
As  if  'twould  dry  me  in  a  little  time. 
The  morning  got  there  just  before  me.      When 


IO4  Young  Folks    Centennial  Rhymes. 

I  knocked  at  brother's  door,  he  did  not  know 

What  evil  beast  so  early  was  abroad, 

And  near  had  shot  me  for  an  enemy.      But  when 

I  gave  my  message,  and  they  knew  what  risk, 

What  labor,  and  what  pain  I  had  endured 

To  save  their  lives,  they  gave  me  such  a  cheer  \ 

MRS.    LANGSTON. 

Thank    Heaven   you're    safe !      Thank    Heaven    your 
brothers  are  ! 

MR.    LANGSTON. 

And  give  the  girl  some  credit,  too.      Now  what ! 

\A  knock  at  the  door.     Enter  the  bloody  Scouts. 

CUNNINGHAM. 

Your  rebel  sons  came  very  near  their  death, 
Old  man.      A  little  more,  and  we  had  found 
Their  hiding-place ;  but  they  had  run  away. 
The  Lord  knows  how  they  scented  us  so  soon  ! 

DICEY  (aside]. 
And  I  know,  too. 


Dicey  Langston.  105 

MR.    LANGSTON. 

Thank  God  ! 

SECOND   SCOUT. 

Old  rebel ! 

THIRD   SCOUT. 

Kill  him  ! 

[Second  Scout  points  his  gun  at  MR.  LANG 
STON  ;   DICEY  throws  herself  between  them. 

DICEY. 

I  am  the  cause  of  all  your  trouble,  sirs ; 
I  traveled  through  the  midnight,  and  alarmed 
My  brothers  to  their  danger.      If  you  kill, 
Kill  me.     I  am  the  one.     What !     Harm  my  father  ? 
Him  whose  gray  head  has  not  a  sinful  hair? 
Shoot,  soldiers  !   shoot !   and  kill  a  weak,  pale  girl  ! 
For  now  I  swear  no  bullet  shall  go  nigh 
His  body,  but  it  first  shall  crash  through  mine  ! 

CUNNINGHAM. 

Well,  that's  well  acted. 


io6  Young  Folks    Centennial  Rhymes. 

DICEY. 

And  well  meant. 

CUNNINGHAM. 

Oh,  well, 

If  you'll  be  taking  on  at  such  a  pitch, 
We'll  let  you  go  this  time,  and  go  ourselves. 
No  doubt,  my  little  shrew,  you'll  yet  get  hung; 
For  you're  the  liveliest  rebel  in  the  State. 
But  'twill  be  sin  to  hurt  so  brave  a  girl ! 

Forward,  march ! 

[They  pass  out. 

MRS.    LANGSTON. 

Good,  brave  daughter !   it  is  you 

Have    saved   your    brothers'    lives,    and    now   your    fa 
ther's,  ! 

DICEY. 

I  did  no  more  than  what  I  felt,  dear  mother. 
I've  heard  that  you  were  glad,  when  I  was  born, 
A  daughter  had  at  last  come  here  to  you; 
But  father  thought  'twas  hard,  in  such  fierce  times, 


Dicey  Langston.  107 

In  these  wild  woods,  that  all  could  not  be  sons. 
I  often  heard  this  whispered,  when  I  'came 
So  old  that  I  could  understand  it;   then 
I  vowed  that  I  would  be  as  useful  to 
The  father  that  I  loved  as  any  son. 

MR.    LANGSTON. 

And  well  you've  kept  your  vow.      And  if,  indeed, 
It  is  a  sin  to  be  a  girl,  you  yet 
Right  well  have  made  it  up.      But  did  you  see 
Young  Springfield  in  the  settlement  ?     Ah,  now 
You  blush. 

DICEY  (coloring). 
He  was  not  there.      What's  he  to  me  ? 

MR.    LANGSTON. 

More  than  you'll  own,  my  girl.     You  have  the  heart 
Of  woman,  with  the  courage  of  a  man. 
[Another  knock  at  the  door.     Enter  three  Men,  disguised. 

FIRST   MAN. 

Is  this  the  house  of  Mister  Langston  ? 


io8  Young  Folks'  Centennial  Rhymes. 

MR.    LANGSTON. 

Yes. 

FIRST   MAN. 

We  are  three  patriot  soldiers,  watching  sharp 
For  that  bold  captain,  the  red  Cunningham. 

MR.    LANGSTON. 

Then  follow  quick,  if  you'd  be  finding  him  ; 
Or  run  quick,  if  you  fear  he  will  find  you ; 
For  he  is  not  a  half  a  mile  away. 

SECOND    MAN. 

We  fly  from  him  !     Not  now  !     Our  force  is  large, 
And  we  shall  capture  him  before  the  morn. 
But  we  were  told,  sir,  by  your  oldest  son, 
To  call  here  for  a  gun  that  he  had  left. 

MR.    LANGSTON. 

Dicey,  go  bring  it. 

DICEY  (appearing  with  it). 

Here  it  is,  sir.      Oh  ! 
There  is  a  pass-word  must  be  had  for  this ; 


Dicey  Langston.  109 

My  brother  said  I  should  not  give  it  up 
Without  the  pass-word. 

SECOND    MAN. 

But,  my  pretty  miss, 

Why  should  we  need  to  give  a  pass-word  now  ? 
We  have  you  all  here  in  our  power ;   the  gun 
Is  ours  already. 

DICEY  (cocking  the  gun,  and  pointing  it  at  him). 

Yours  already  ?     Well, 
If  it  is  yours,  take  charge  of  it ! 

THIRD    MAN. 

Hold!    hold! 

Don't  fire,  my  girl !      I'll  give  the  countersign. 
"  Death  to  the  tyrant !      Liberty  and  right !" 

DICEY  (trembling  and  blushing,  and  giving  up  the  gun). 
I  know  that  voice  !     Tis  Thomas  Springfield  ! 

SPRINGFIELD. 

Yes; 
I  have  just  come  from  Marion.      He  has  heard 


i  io  Young  Folks    Centennial  Rhymes. 

Of  your  adventures,  and  has  sent  this  ring, 
From  his  own  ringer,  as  an  offering 
And  testimonial  to  your  bravery. 

[Aside  to  DICEY. 

And  as  for  me,  I  have  another  ring, 
Which  I  would  place  upon  your  finger,  if— 

DICEY  (aside  to  him). 

Never,  until  my  country's  wars  are  clone, 
Will  I  accept  the  hand  of  any  one. 
Whatever  love  or  loves  may  plead  with  me, 
My  country  is  my  love  till  she  be  free. 
. 

SPRINGFIELD. 

And  if  I'm  faithful — when  the  war  is  done, 
And  by  my  help  our  freedom  has  been  won — 

DICEY  (giving  him  her  hand). 
Then  come  to  me,  and  claim  my  heart's  reply. 

SPRINGFIELD. 

I  will  remind  you  of  these  words.      Good-bye. 

[Men  march  out. 


NOTES. 


NOTES. 


1  THE  name  of  "the  little  black-eyed  rebel"  was  Mary  Redmond.  She 
was  the  daughter  of  a  patriot  who  lived  in  Philadelphia  at  the  time  it  was 
occupied  by  the  British  troops.  In  that  city,  and  at  the  above-mentioned 
time,  the  incident  told  in  the  poem  took  place.  The  following  account  of 
the  young  heroine  is  taken  from  "  Noble  Deeds  of  American  Women :" 

"  She  had  many  relatives  who  were  Loyalists,  and  these  used  to  call  her 
'the  little  black-eyed  rebel,'  so  ready  was  she  to  help  women  whose  hus 
bands  were  fighting  for  freedom  in  getting  letters  from  them.  The  letters 
were  usually  sent  from  their  friends  by  a  boy,  who  carried  them  stitched  in 
the  back  of  his  coat.  He  came  into  the  city,  bringing  provisions  to  mar 
ket.  One  morning,  when  there  was  some  reason  to  fear  he  was  suspected, 
and  his  movements  were  watched  by  the  enemy,  Mary  undertook  to  get  the 
papers  from  him  in  safety.  She  went  as  usual  to  the  market,  and,  in  a  pre 
tended  game  of  romps,  threw  her  shawl  over  the  boy's  head,  and  secured 
the  prize.  She  hurried  with  the  papers  to  her  anxious  friends,  who  read 
them  secretly,  after  the  windows  had  been  carefully  closed. 

"  When  the  news  came  that  the  British  general,  Burgoyne,  had  surren- 

8 


114  Notes. 

dered,  the  cunning  little  "rebel,'  so  as  not  to  be  heard  by  her  Loyalist 
friends,  put  her  head  up  the  chimney,  and  gave  a  shout  for  Gates,  the 
American  general." 

2  General  Thomas  Gage,  who  is  here  referred  to,  was  British  Govern 
or  of  Massachusetts  in  the  winter  of  I774~'75,  when  this  incident  took 
place.      He  is  said  to  have  been  a  good-natured,  sociable  man;  but  he 
did  not  succeed  as  a  governor,  and  was  removed  in  1775. 

3  On  the  morning  of  the  attack  upon  the  Sammons  family,  Thomas,  the 
youngest,  had  risen  earlier  than  usual,  to  feed  his  horses  and  go  over  to 
another  farm  near-by,  to  work  with  his  brother.     Just  as  he  stepped  out- 
of-doors,  a  hand  was  laid  upon  his  shoulder,  with  the  words,  "  You  are  my 
prisoner."     So  still  had  the  enemy  approached,  that  not  the  sound  of  a 
footstep  was  heard  until  that  moment.     By  this  time,  the  house  was  sur 
rounded  by  the  Tories.     One  of  the  officers,  with  several  soldiers,  then 
entered,  and  ordered  the  family  to  get  up  and  surrender  themselves  as 
prisoners.     Jacob  and  Frederick,  who  were  in  the  second  story,  sprung 
up  on  their  feet  immediately,  and  seized  their  arms.      The  officer  called 
to  them,  and  told  them  they  should  not  be  hurt  if  they  would  surrender. 
Jacob  inquired   whether   there    were  any   Indians  among   them,  adding 
that,  if  there  were,  they  would  not  be  taken  alive.     On  being  told  there 
were  none,  they  came  down-stairs  and  surrendered.     Old  Mr.  Sammons, 
also,  was  taken.     They  were  ordered  to  get  ready  to  march  immediately, 
the  British  intending  to  take  them  to  Canada  as  prisoners;  but  Thomas 
told  the  sentinel  that  he  could  not  go  so  far  without  his  shoes,  which  he 


Notes.  1 1 5 

had  not  yet  put  on,  and  which  he  asked  permission  to  get  from  upstairs. 
The  soldier  refused;  Thomas  sprung  for  the  ladder,  determined  to  get 
his  shoes.  The  soldier  made  a  plunge  at  his  back  with  his  bayonet, 
which  would  have  killed  the  boy  if  it  had  not  been  for  his  sister,  who 
sprung  forward,  and,  seizing  the  gun,  threw  herself  across  the  barrel, 
and,  by  falling,  brought  it  to  the  ground.  The  soldier  struggled  to 
pull  away  the  gun  and  accomplish  his  purpose ;  but  an  officer  stepped 
up,  and  inquired  what  was  the  matter.  The  girl  informed  him,  where 
upon  he  ordered  the  man  to  step  back,  and  let  the  boy  get  any  thing 
he  wanted  for  the  journey. — Life  of  General  Brant. 

Thomas  Sammons  escaped  that  afternoon.  When  he  became  a  man,  he 
was  elected  a  member  of  Congress  for  several  years.  Old  Mr.  Sammons 
was  released  on  the  same  day  he  was  captured ;  and  the  other  two  sons 
afterward  escaped,  and  returned  safely  home. 

4  Paul  Revere  was  the  man  who  rode  through  the  darkness,  on  the  night 
of  the  i8th  of  April,  1775,  to  rouse  the  people,  and  tell  them  that  the  Brit 
ish  were  coming  for  the  purpose  of  destroying  the  American  military  stores 
at  Concord.     An  account  of  the  incident  may  be  found  in  Longfellow's 
splendid  poem,  "  Paul  Revere's  Ride." 

5  "Sheridan's  Ride"  is  a  fine  poem,  by  T.  B.  Read,  relating  the  inci 
dent  of  General  Sheridan's  riding  twenty  miles  from  Winchester,  to  save 
the  day  in  a  battle. 

6  "The  Neutral  Ground"  was  so  called  in  the  Revolution,  because  it 


n  6  Notes. 

was  held  by  neither  the  American  nor  the  British  army,  but  lay  between 
them.  It  was  in  Westchester  County,  New  York.  The  people  of  this 
section  had  a  hard  time  during  the  war  ;  for  they  were  liable  at  any 
moment  to  be  robbed  by  friends  of  either  of  the  armies,  or  by  villains 
who  cared  nothing  for  the  results  of  the  conflict,  but  served  all  alike. 

7  Not  long  after  the  birth  of  George  Washington,  his  father  removed  to 
an  estate  in  Stafford  County,  opposite  Fredericksburg.  The  house  stood 
on  a  rising  ground  overlooking  a  meadow  which  bordered  the  Rappahan- 
nock  River.  This  was  the  home  of  George's  boyhood ;  the  meadow  was 
his  playground  and  the  scene  of  his  early  sports.  But  this  home,  like 
that  in  which  he  was  born,  has  disappeared  ;  the  site  is  only  to  be 
traced  by  fragments  of  bricks,  china,  and  earthenware. 

George  was  yet  in  early  childhood.  As  his  intellect  dawned,  he  re 
ceived  the  rudiments  of  education  in  the  best  establishment  for  the  pur 
pose  that  the  neighborhood  afforded.  It  was  what  was  called  an  "old 
field  school  -  house,"  kept  by  one  of  his  father's  tenants,  named  Hobby, 
who  was  also  sexton  of  the  parish. — IRVING'S  Life  of  Washington. 

*  Washington,  when  at  old  Master  Hobby's  school,  was  so  well  liked 
by  his  playmates,  and  they  had  so  much  confidence  in  his  judgment  and 
honesty,  that  when  they  fell  into  any  trouble  among  themselves  they  very 
often  called  on  him  to  act  as  judge,  and  to  decide  how  the  affair  should 
be  settled. 

u  When  Washington  was  fourteen  years  of  age,  he  had  a  great  desire  to 


Notes.  1 1 7 

enter  the  British  navy.  It  was  necessary,  however,  to  first  get  the  con 
sent  of  his  mother,  his  father  having  died  when  he  was  eleven  years  old. 
After  a  great  deal  of  urging,  she  consented  to  let  him  go ;  and  his  broth 
er  obtained  for  him  the  position  of  midshipman  on  a  vessel  of  war, 
which,  at  that  time,  was  anchored  in  the  Potomac  River,  just  below 
Mount  Vernon.  His  baggage  was  all  on  board  the  ship,  and  he  came 
to  his  mother  to  bid  her  good  -  bye ;  but  at  the  last  moment  her  heart 
failed  her,  and  she  took  back  her  words  of  consent,  and  begged  of  him 
not  to  go.  Rather  than  grieve  her  so  sadly,  he  gave  up  his  plan,  had 
his  baggage  brought  back  to  the  house,  and  staid  at  home.  Had  he 
entered  upon  a  sailor's  life,  he  might  never  have  become  the  leading 
general  of  the  American  Revolution. 

10  After  the  War  of  the  Revolution  was  over,  and  the  Americans  had 
gained  their  independence,  the  question  arose,  Who  should  be  the  first 
President?  Washington  was  elected  to  the  place,  and,  much  against  his 
wishes,  consented  to  serve.  When  peace  was  declared,  he  had  gone  back 
to  his  home  at  Mount  Vernon,  on  the  Potomac  River,  and  hoped  to  spend 
the  rest  of  his  life  there,  quietly  and  easily,  as  a  farmer.  But  the  country 
would  not  consent  to  that;  and,  on  the  i6th  of  April,  1789,  he  started  for 
Philadelphia,  which  was  then  the  capital  of  the  United  States,  to  be  inau 
gurated  as  President.  His  way  took  him  through  Trenton,  New  Jersey, 
where,  a  number  of  years  before,  he  had  spent  a  gloomy  night,  trying  to 
outwit  the  British  general,  Cornwallis,  and  had  succeeded  in  doing  so. 
On  a  bridge,  crossing  the  stream  which  flows  through  that  city,  the  ladies 
had  raised  an  arch,  twined  with  evergreens  and  laurels,  under  which  he  was 


1 1 8  Notes. 

to  pass.  Upon  it  were  the  words,  "  The  defenders  of  the  mothers  will  be 
the  protectors  of  the  daughters."  A  number  of  young  girls,  dressed  in 
white,  marched  before  him,  and  strewed  flowers,  singing,  meanwhile,  a  song 
in  his  praise.  The  day  was  clear  ;  the  sun  shone  brightly  ;  crowds  of  hap 
py  people  were  present ;  and  Washington  coujd  not  help  noticing  and  feel 
ing  the  difference  between  this  beautiful  day  and  the  gloomy  night  he  had 
spent  upon  the  same  river  with  his  little  army,  twelve  years  before. 

"  General  Edward  Braddock  was  commander  of  the  British  and  Ameri 
cans,  when  they  together  were  righting  the  French,  in  the  "  French  War," 
which  took  place  a  few  years  before  the  Revolution.  This,  of  course,  was 
while  our  forefathers  were  still  under  the  power  and  protection  of  England. 
On  the  Qth  of  July,  1755,  General  Braddock  marched,  with  a  force  of  two 
thousand  men,  British  and  Americans,  against  Fort  Du  Quesne,  now  Pitts 
burgh,  Pennsylvania,  which  was  held  by  the  French.  On  the  way  there,  a 
band  of  French  and  Indians  suddenly  sprung  out  of  the  forest,  and,  after  a 
severe  fight,  General  Braddock's  army  was  beaten,  and  ran  away  in  disor 
der.  After  having  five  horses  shot  under  him,  the  general  was  wounded, 
and  died  a  few  days  after. 

12  "The  Plains  of  Abraham"  are  near  the  city  of  Quebec,  on  the  St. 
Lawrence  River.      Here,  in  1769,  the  British  army  defeated  the  French, 
and  took  the  city. 

13  "  Israel,"  in  the  short  scene,  "  How  Israel  was  Whipped,"  refers  to 
the  boy  who  afterward  became  General  Putnam,  one  of  the  bravest  and 


Notes.  119 

most  faithful   commanders  in  the  American  army.      The  following  brief 
mention  of  his  boyhood  is  gathered  from  Sparks's  "  Life  of  Putnam  :" 

He  was  born  at  Salem,  in  Massachusetts,  on  the  7th  day  of  January, 
1718.  His  grandfather,  with  two  brothers,  came  from  the  South  of  En 
gland.  His  father  was  a  farmer,  and  the  son  was  brought  up  to  the  same 
pursuit,  for  which  not  much  education  was  then  believed  to  be  needed. 
The  arts  of  reading,  writing,  and  a  little  of  arithmetic  were  all  that  could 
be  acquired  in  the  common  schools ;  so  that  the  literary  advantages  of 
young  Israel  could  not  have  been  very  great.  But  his  body  was  firm  and 
strong,  and  he  was  not  afraid  of  any  ordinary  danger.  It  was  the  custom 
for  young  men  in  those  days  to  practice  running,  leaping,  wrestling,  and 
pitching  the  bar ;  and  in  these  manly  sports  Putnam  could  be  beaten 
by  none  of  his  companions.  On  his  first  visit  to  Boston,  he  was  treated 
rudely  by  one  of  the  city  boys,  a  sort  of  welcome  which  country  boys 
frequently  receive  when  they  "go  to  town."  His  antagonist  was  twice 
as  large  as  himself;  but  Israel  gave  him  a  sound  beating,  to  the  entire 
satisfaction  of  a  large  number  who  were  looking  on. 

14  The  incident  told  in  the  poem,  "  Little  Golden-hair,"  is  supposed  to 
have  taken  place  when   the   British  marched  to  destroy  the   American 
military  stores  at  Concord,  on  the  i8th  of  April,  1775.      Upon  this   day 
occurred  the  first  battle  of  the  Revolution. 

15  The  capture  of  the  Margaretta  took  place  near  Machias,  Maine,  soon 
after  the  battle  of  Lexington.      Mr.  Lossing,  in  his  "  Field-book  of  the 
Revolution,"  says : 


1 20  Notes. 

"  The  honor  of  this  enterprise  belongs  to  Joseph  Wheaton,  a  native 
of  New  York,  then  residing  at  Machias.  He  was  an  energetic  young 
man  of  twenty  years.  He  proposed  the  expedition,  but  modestly  named 
Jeremiah  O'Brien  for  commander.  He  was  active  in  the  whole  affair, 
and  in  person  seized  the  colors  of  the  Margaretta" 

16  "  The  Pine-tree  Flag  "  was  used  upon  American  vessels,  before  the 
introduction  of  the  "  Stars  and  Stripes."      It  was  white,  with  a  picture 
of  a  pine-tree  in  the  centre,  and  the  words,  "  In  God  we  Trust." 

17  "  The  Printer-boy  Tramp  "  was  Benjamin  Franklin,  who  afterward  be 
came  one  of  the  greatest  philosophers  and  statesmen  of  his  time,  and  one 
of  the  most  faithful  patriots  of  the  Revolution.     When  a  boy,  he  paid  his 
first  visit  to  Philadelphia,  in  search  of  work,  as  a  printer,  which  trade  he 
had  learned.     His  best  clothes  were  in  his  trunk,  which  had  not  yet  ar 
rived  ;  he  had  only  a  single  dollar  in  his  pocket ;  but  he  was  not  discour 
aged,  and  set  about  finding  employment  as  soon  as  possible.      Feeling 
hungry,  he  stepped  into  a  baker's  shop,  and  bought  three  large  loaves 
of  bread.      With  a  loaf  under  each  arm,  and  one  in  his  hand,  he  pro 
ceeded  up  the  street,  eating  his  breakfast  on  the  way,  and  never  noticing 
the  queer  glances  that  followed  him. 

As  he  passed  the  house  of  Mr.  Read,  the  daughter  of  Mr.  R.  was 
standing  at  the  door,  and  is  supposed  to  have  said  the  words  in  the 
poem.  She  afterward  became  the  wife  of  Franklin. 

18  The  Hessians  were  soldiers  whom  the  King  of  England  had  bought 


Notes.  1 2 1 

or  hired  from  a  German  prince,  paying  him  a  certain  sum  of  money  for 
each  man.  They  were  brought  over  the  sea  to  fight  the  Americans.  In 
order  to  get  enough  of  them  to  fill  out  the  number  bargained  for,  the 
German  prince  sent  his  soldiers  into  fields  and  shops  where  the  men 
were  working,  and  into  churches  where  they  were  worshiping,  seized, 
and  hurried  them  off,  without  giving  them  time  even  to  say  good-bye  to 
their  families.  The  Hessians  were,  many  of  them,  more  to  be  pitied 
than  blamed. 

19  Dicey  Langston  was  the  daughter  of  Solomon  Langston,  of  Laurens 
District,  South  Carolina.  She  possessed  a  brave  spirit,  which,  living  in  the 
days  of  the  Revolution,  she  had  more  than  one  chance  to  display.  Situ 
ated  in  the  midst  of  Tories,  and  being  patriotically  inquisitive,  she  often 
learned  by  accident,  or  discovered  by  strategy,  the  plottings  so  common  in 
those  days  against  the  American  patriots.  This  intelligence  she  used  to 
communicate  to  the  friends  of  freedom  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  En- 
noree  River. 

Learning  one  time  that  a  band  of  the  enemy,  called  the  "  Bloody 
Scouts,"  were  about  to  fall  on  the  "Elder  Settlement,"  a  place  where 
brothers  and  other  friends  of  hers  were  residing,  she  made  up  her  mind  to 
warn  them  of  their  danger.  To.  do  this,  she  must  hazard  her  own  life  ;  but 
off  she  started,  alone,  in  the  darkness  of  the  night,  traveled  several  miles 
through  the  woods  and  over  marshes  and  across  creeks,  through  a  country 
where  foot-logs  and  bridges  were  then  unknown;  came  to  the  Tyger,  a 
deep  stream,  into  which  she  plunged  and  waded  till  the  water  was  up  to 
her  neck.  She  then  became  bewildered,  and  zigzagged  the  channel  some 


122  Notes. 

time ;  but  at  length  reached  the  opposite  shore,  for  a  helping  hand  was 
beneath,  and  a  kind  Providence  guided  her.  She  hastened  on,  reached 
the  settlement,  and  her  brothers  and  the  whole  community  were  safe. 

She  was  returning  one  day  from  another  settlement  of  patriots,  when  a 
company  of  Tories  met  her,  and  questioned  her  in  regard  to  the  neighbor 
hood  she  had  just  left ;  but  she  refused  to  give  them  any  information.  The 
leader  of  the  band  then  held  a  pistol  to  her  breast,  and  threatened  to  shoot 
her,  if  she  did  not  make  the  wished -for  disclosure.  "Shoot  me,  if  you 
dare !  I  will  not  tell  you !"  she  replied.  The  rascal,  enraged  at  her 
obstinacy,  was  in  the  act  of  firing ;  but  one  of  the  soldiers  threw  up  the 
hand  holding  the  weapon,  and  the  brave  heart  of  the  girl  was  permit 
ted  to  beat  on. 

The  brothers  of  Dicey  were  no  less  patriotic  than  she  ;  and  they  having, 
by  their  active  services  in  the  cause  of  liberty,  greatly  displeased  the  ene 
my,  the  latter  were  determined  to  be  revenged.  A  desperate  band  accord 
ingly  went  to  the  house  of  their  father,  and,  finding  the  sons  absent,  they 
were  about  to  take  their  vengeance  on  the  old  man,  whom  they  hated  on 
account  of  his  sons.  With  this  intent,  one  of  the  party  drew  a  pistol ;  but 
just  as  it  was  aimed  at  the  breast  of  her  aged  and  infirm  father,  Dicey 
rushed  between  the  two,  and,  though  the  ruffian  bid  her  get  out  of  the 
way  or  take  the  contents  of  the  weapon  in  her  own  breast,  she  flung  her 
arms  around  her  father's  neck,  and  declared  she  would  receive  the  ball 
first,  if  the  pistol  were  fired.  The  heart  of  the  "  Bloody  Scout "  was  soft 
ened,  and  Mr.  Langston  lived  to  see  his  noble  daughter  perform  other 
heroic  deeds. 

One  time,  her  brother  James,  in  his  absence,  sent  to  the  house  for  a  gun 


Notes.  123 

which  he  had  left  in  her  care,  with  orders  to  deliver  it  to  no  one  except 
by  his  direction.  On  reaching  the  house,  one  of  the  company  made 
known  the  errand,  whereupon  she  brought  the  gun,  and  was  about  to 
deliver  it.  At  this  moment  it  occurred  to  her  that  she  had  not  demand 
ed  the  pass  -  word  agreed  upon  between  herself  and  her  brother.  With 
the  gun  still  in  her  hand,  she  looked  the  company  sternly  in  the  face, 
and  called  for  the  countersign.  One  of  the  company,  for  a  joke,  told  her 
that  she  was  too  late ;  that  the  gun  as  well  as  the  holder  was  already 
in  their  possession.  "  Do  you  think  so  ?"  she  boldly  asked,  aiming  it 
at  him.  "  Then  take  charge  of  it !"  Her  appearance  indicated  that 
she  was  in  earnest,  and  the  pass  -  word  was  given  without  delay.  A 
hearty  laugh  on  the  part  of  the  "Liberty  Men"  ended  the  ceremony. — 
Noble  Deeds  of  American  Women. 

Miss  Langston  married  Thomas  Springfield,  of  Greenville,  South 
Carolina,  where  many  of  her  descendants  are  still  living.  —  LOSSING'S 
Field-book  of  the  Revolution. 


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Mr.  Madison  in  1817.  By  SALMA  HALE.  2  vols.,  i8mo,  Cloth,  $i  50. 

PECK'S  WYOMING.  Wyoming  :  its  History,  Stirring  Incidents,  and 
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HOWITT'S  HISTORY  OF  AMERICA.  A  Popular  History  of  the 
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2  vols.,  I2mo,  Cloth,  $3  50.  

HALIBURTON'S    RULE   AND   MISRULE   OF   THE   ENGLISH. 

Rule  and  Misrule  of  the  English  in  America.  By  T.  C.  HALIBURTON, 
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"  Old  Judge,"  &c.  i2mo,  Cloth,  $i  25. 

STORY  ON  THE  CONSTITUTION  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES. 

A  Familiar  Exposition  of  the  Constitution  of  the  United  States.  By 
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CENTENNIAL  READING. 


A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES.  By  JOHN 
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to  the  Close  of  the  Rebellion  and  the  Inauguration  of  President  John 
son.  Illustrations.  3  vols.,  i6mo,  Cloth,  $3  75. 

UNCLE  PHILIP'S  MASSACHUSETTS.  Massachusetts;  or, Conver 
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numerous  Illustrations.  2  vols.,  i8mo,  Cloth,  $i  50. 

UNCLE  PHILIP'S  NEW  HAMPSHIRE.  New  Hampshire  ;  or,  Con. 
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UNCLE  PHILIP'S  NEW  YORK.  New  York  ;  or,  Conversations  with 
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HELPS'S  SPANISH  CONQUEST.  The  Spanish  Conquest  in  America, 
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Colonies.  By  ARTHUR  HELPS.  4  vols.,  large  I2mo,  Cloth,  $i  50  each. 

BALBOA,  CORTEZ,  AND  PIZARRO.  The  Lives  of  Vasco  Nunez 
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COLUMBUS  AND  VESPUCIUS.  The  Lives  of  Christopher  Columbus, 
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Illustrations.  i8mo,  Cloth,  75  cents. 

HARPER'S  MAGAZINE.  52  volumes.  8vo,  Cloth,  $3  oo  per  vol.  ; 
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stamped  below. 


816)476 


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